The Week That Wasn't
by LesserKnown
Summary: Someone from the past has returned to Sunnydale to combat an ancient evil. COMPLETE
1. Awakening

_Cold._

_Dark._

_Musty earth, heavy and wet, fills my senses. No light, no space, just dark. Just cold. My hand reaches out into the abyss - or not. The top of my confinement is a scant few inches above my nose. The sides are close around me. What is this? Panic sours in my mouth, clouds my brain. Then I notice the quiet. As terrified as I have become, there is no panicked breathing, no pounding heart. It's as quiet as..._

_No. The word, the thought, would push me over. I am teetering, I must not fall._

_Again, I reach my hand up; my fingers scrape the rough wood. I begin to claw..._

NO. Even as I wrote those words, my hand began to shake. My throat closed in terror. Those moments, that hell, I will not relive. I can not.

_Out of the grave, out of hell, I emerge. The sheer torture of the last few eternal moments has shattered what little control I had. Looking around me, I feel only one thing: Hunger. He of the piercing eyes and immortal wail - mocking me, pushing me, dominating my very will. I would kill the world, rape and plunder her glories, burn her towers to the ground, for one drop of blood._

_My unseeing eyes search the air; my parched throat takes up a soundless scream. Suddenly, I feel something shoved into my hands. I drink; sweet liquid coursing through my body, making me live, making me feel, making me become._

_You never forget your first drink. The first time you taste the metallic sweetness, the fullness of it making you ache for more. This is not my first drink. I know this instinctively. For now, though, it may as well be all there is in the world. It is enough._

Pausing, I lifted the pen. I sounded like such a – monster, a demon. "A vampire?" I mused. Disgusted I threw the unoffending pen across the room. "Senseless violence against innocent writing tools," I muttered "I'll just add that to my crimes. That'll doom me for at least one eternity."

Sighing, I rubbed my eyes. Already, my last few hours of daylight were waning; soon the Hunger, the Night would call me. This incessant soul-searching was wearying; this reliving was wearing on me. The advice I was given, however, was to write. So I did.

_The blood feeds the Hunger, beating him back. Never defeating him, never banishing. All the blood in the world can only sedate Hunger, make him lie in wait for a season. However, as Hunger retreats, Reason rises again, temporarily taking residence. _

_I look around. The moon is ripening, not yet in her glory. A gentle breeze caresses my face, teasing my hair, and leaving me behind as it seeks others to play with. I stand atop a hill, under a mighty tree. _

"_A pleasant spot for a grave, is it not?" rasps a voice. "A bit prosaic, but what grave isn't, eh?"_

_I whirl around, seeking the speaker. He is behind me, an amused expression under a lock of dark curls. He is a vampire._

"_Who...what...who...?"_

"_And they always told me you were smart as well as beautiful. Tut, I suppose you can't have everything." He oozes closer. "Although, all vamped out like that, you're a morsel, no doubt about it."_

_My brain suddenly clicks on. A vampire has just given me a cup of blood, which I then consumed with much greed and delight. My hands fly to my face; I am struggling to comprehend what I already know. The memories have not yet come back. I trace the ridge above my eyes, feel the sharp points of my teeth. My heart should beat out of my chest; my breath should be gasping – but nothing. _

"_No!" I shout – as if enough indignation and rage will reverse the inevitable truth. _

_I struggle against a tide of images: a fire, sudden and unimaginable pain. Eyes, pleading eyes, loving eyes. A body, a corpse. Under it all, the smell of blood, and death, and pain, and hopelessness. _

"_No," without conviction now. I remember; and I weep._

"_Now, now chickey," the vampire clucks, sounding absurd when coupled with his prominent ridge and razor sharp teeth. "There'll be none of that. What could you possibly be crying about, anyway? You have a tummy full of nice blood, the evening's young, and we're miles away from the Slayer! What more could a lovely awakened like yourself want?"_

"_Where am I?" I demand. "Who are you? What year is this?"_

"_Slow down chickey-pie! One question at a time." I can feel my growing impatience. My self-appointed mentor was obviously enjoying this. "If you're confused as to your present location, I suggest you look here." He gestures towards the tombstone with a little bow and flourish. _

_THERESA REAYON_

"_LIGHT OF OUR LIVES"_

_ 1957-1974_

_RIP_

_More memories. More images. I shake my head, determined to avoid until a more opportune moment. _

"_I'm dead, then?" _

"_Not dead darling," he delights in saying. "Not dead. You're turned. Converted. Part of a glorious new species."_

"_I'm a vampire then – a soulless demon." I feel bile creeping up my throat. My worst nightmare come true. I'm one of those which I used to hunt. _

"_Tisk. So crude. We prefer the term 'soul-challenged'. But you're not." He begins to turn away, jauntily strutting towards the distant road._

_Great, a demon drama queen. I bite. "I'm not what." I ask roughly._

_He turns, thrilled that I have taken the bait. "Why, soulless, of course. You are not one of the lucky." Now he sits on the – on MY – tombstone, settling into his topic. "No dearie, you have been burdened with a soul. Unlike me," he flips his hair and grins wolfishly, "you have a tether to this mortal realm." _

_As I listen to this arrogant bloodsucker drone on and on, the vague buzzing in my brain becomes more pronounced. I suddenly remember how much I hate to be kept waiting. My would-be-guru found himself in a very effective choke hold, a convenient branch mere inches from his still heart._

"_Now," says I, grinning for the first time, "perhaps we could speed the story up. And leave out your philosophizing." This I enjoy._

"_Alright chickey, no need to go all Slayer on me." He fears for the first time. A familiar scent. "Ok, your questions. Let's see – you, vampire."_

"_Got that," I murmur, toying with the sharp branch._

"_Right. Um, I am Edward. I am a messenger from My Master."_

_Full stop. Reverse engines. "Who do you work for?"_

"_My Master. You knew him as Laalym." Edward smells my sudden fear as easily as I sensed his. "Ah, tisk, you remember him, do you?"_

"_The year?" I say. First rule of Slaying – When interrogating Vampires, always remember who holds the pointy piece of wood. Vampires love to digress._

"_It is 2001. The year of the Rising." A slithery smile stretches its way across the Vampire's features. "A year of changes, Chickey. And you're part and parcel of it."_

_The night is wearing on. As are my nerves. "Ok Edward. I'm going to level with you. I'm cranky, I'm confused, I'm Hungry, and – if my tombstone doesn't lie – I've been in the ground for twenty-seven years. Which, side note, makes no sense at all. So, if you don't want to find the wrong end of my temper, I suggest you cut the riddles and cute pet names and talk." Ah, the power of a pissed-off Slayer._

"_Right, well then. What do you remember of the night you..." He cuts a quick glance at me, an even quicker one at the hovering branch._

"_Died, Edward. Not passed over, not evolved, died."_

"_Yes, died." Nervous vampire. Fun._

"_Not much." Blood, pain, a fire. Eyes...if I could just..._

"_Well," Edward thankfully interrupts my thoughts, "the ceremony was half completed. No need to go into all that. Awakening always leaves the newbies confused; I'm sure you'll remember everything in due time."_

_Oh boy. Sure am not looking forward to that._

"_Anyway, My Master sent me here to meet you. There are a few things you must know. First of all, you have a soul."_

_My hand inches the branch closer. "We've been over this."_

"_Yes, well, Chi..." Another quick glance to Mr. Branchey – as I have affectionately named him. "Yes. Well, there is a curse with said soul. You willingly drink the blood of a human, you lose it." He gestures toward the cup I had thrown to the ground. "That's why I had to bring you cow's blood."_

"_Why would Laalym want my soul to stick around? Aren't most big bad vampires all about the soullessness?" Edward squirms slightly in my arms. Mr. Branchey moves ever closer. _

"_It has to do with the ceremony. You must be ensouled for the next stage."_

_Ah. Things are clicking in my brain. Memories, theories, books read and researched. Those eyes - not in pain, but laughing - looking out over the top of Clansen's Demonic Rituals Explained. _

"_The second thing. You must head toward Sunnydale, towards the Hellmouth. There, you will probably seek out the Slayer. My Master knows this. In fact," the Vampire looks at me, "he wants you to. He tells me to warn you – Remember what has happened."_

_Eyes. A corpse. Blood, filling my mouth, a heady wine._

"_Which way?" The demon in my arms points down the remote road towards the north. "Gee, thanks." I say._

_Mr. Branchey darts forward and dust flies._

_The road awaits me. Daybreak is only a few hours off. I can smell her coming on the breath of stars. _

_I head towards Sunnydale. Towards my doom._

* * *

Sometimes I wondered why I had come this way. Why didn't I go south, towards some other town, some other place? Or why not fall on the pointy Mr. Branchey and end it all? Sometimes I wonder if I knew who was waiting for me.

Sometimes I wonder if I wonder too much. Probably.

Only another hour or so till I must take to the streets, trying to elude Hunger, trying to fool him. It's our nightly dance, and I cannot be late.

_I make it to the crypt barely before Sunrise. She crept up on me, almost took me, but I evaded her golden fingers. This time. As my reward, I stretch out on the cool marble and allow myself blessed unconsciousness._

_This waking is almost harder than the previous. No terror distracts me; no pain diverts from him. Hunger, sallow eyes boring me, crouches in the corner, whispers to my brain. I can push him off for now, and I take this reprieve. _

_I exit my refuge. Information, I realize, is needed. Sharp rustling sounds from one of the overgrown shrubs that encircle the crypt. Luck, perhaps, is with me. A weapon is needed, and again a branch from a nearby tree – this one neatly manicured – avails me._

_Creeping forward, my muscles remembering things my mind will not, I advance. Two vampires are on the prowl. Mr. Branchey Jr. quickly dispatches one. The other, a waxen female with lank raven locks, quickly finds herself between a crypt and a sharp stick. _

"_Now," I say, knowing that I'm in full vampire face, hating the lack of control it shows, "lets say that you and I have a little chat. I'll ask questions, you give answers, and at the end of it all, I just might not dust you. Good?"_

"_Yeah, yeah, that's a great plan." She fears Mr. Branchey Jr., she fears me, she fears...something else. I shake my head, try to focus on the task at hand. Second rule of Slaying – don't get distracted. It's a good way to get dead._

"_Glad you agree." Her dull yellow eyes are staring blankly at me. Direct is probably the best approach for this one. "I'm looking for the Slayer. Got any ideas where I might find her?" _

"_Umm. Tonight, tonight she's not out yet. That's why me and Josh, that's why we were lookin' to feed. Cause He said she's not out yet. Sometimes, she and her little friends, they stay at the magic shop in town. It's early, and she might be there." She finishes babbling out her information, looks at me hopefully. "That's all I know. Me and Josh, we don't look for no trouble. We were just lookin' to feed. Before she came out."_

_I look at her. There, but for the grace of God, go I._

"_Rest in Peace." I sigh. _

_Ashes to ashes, dust to dust._

* * *

_I head towards town. I need the Slayer and I need books. Both will probably be found at this magic shop. I realize that I am now non-vamped. Perhaps there's a way to control it? I push that towards the back of my mind. On to-do list: learn to control scary demon face._

_As I enter the outskirts of Sunnydale, I begin to see people. Real people, with their own thoughts, dreams, and desires; all laughing, talking, loving, breathing, all living. I can feel their blood, their life, pulsing around me, filling the air with an intoxicating aroma._

_Suddenly I realize that I am still in my grave clothes. Third rule of Slaying – don't stand out. Demons usually run away from obvious slayage, and that means you might get all sweaty and dirty. _

_A quick glance down reveals me in my favorite outfit for a night patrol. Black flared pants, a black ribbed turtleneck sweater, and my lucky belt – complete with a slot to hold a stake. The belt – fondly nicknamed BoJangles – was a gift from my Watcher after my first successful kill. I look around. My outfit, though morbidly lacking in color, won't attract any unwanted attention. I make my way towards the heart of town._

_A few minutes' walk finds me at the door of an unobtrusive store. "The Magic Box," I mutter. "Clever." I open the door, a tiny bell announcing my entrance. I figure sneaking up on a Slayer and her friends is not the best idea for a newbie Vampire. _

"_Hello?" I call out. "Anyone here? I wasn't sure if you were open, but the front door..." _

_A man appears out of a back room. Tall, older, tweed infested, obviously British – probably the Watcher. "Yes?" He asks, removing his glasses and polishing them with a crisp white handkerchief. "What can I do for you?"_

_A pretty girl with bouncy dark blonde hair comes from what is probably a stock room. "Oh! Are you a customer? Do you want to spend money? Cause I can help you if you want to spend money."_

_Ok, I am officially caught off guard. Something about this girl...smells funny. She goes onto my 'Not Slayer' list. _

"_Um, well, I'm looking for someone. And a book, I'm also looking for a book." Great. Way to dazzle them with my intelligent conversational skills. They're sure to believe me now. I sigh. "Sorry, I'm a bit...befuddled."_

"_Quite all right. Well, let's start with the book. Anya?" The Watcher in Tweed speaks to the bouncy shopgirl. "I think I can help this young lady. You can go back to...well, whatever you were doing before." He gestured vaguely towards the stockroom._

"_Fine." She flounces back, muttering something about stuffy Brits and hogging customers._

"_Sorry about that. Anya is...well, a bit overzealous. Now, you said something about a book." He smiles, a slow boyish sort of grin. He reminds me of..._

_Red fire, fiery pain, eyes, a Voice, blood, eyes..._

"_Are you all right?" the man anxiously inquires. _

"_Yes, yes, quite. I'm sorry. Just a bit weak. Um, I'm looking for a specific book on demonic rituals, but it's quite rare." Must stay focused. Must find the Slayer. I repeat the mantra in my head._

"_Well," he says with some pride, "I do have one of the most eclectic collections of books on the Dark Arts on this continent. What book are you looking for?"_

"_Clansen's Demonic Rituals Explained. Do you have it?"_

_The Watcher goes pale. "What book did you say?"_

_I open my mouth, puzzled. But before I can answer, the back room door opens, and a petite blonde in workout clothes walks out. _

"_Giles, what's going on? I can't practice my dodging and ducking if I don't have anything to dodge and duck from." She trails off, seeing me. Sensing me. Her expression changes. "Giles," sharply "what are you doing?"_

_I hold my hands out. Best to calm her down before I announce my business. "Please, don't...that is, I'm not trying..."_

"_Buffy? What's going on?" the Watcher – Giles, was it? – looks confused. He backs a step away from me. Then his expression changes as well. _

God, how I've learned to hate that look. When suddenly, everyone realizes there's a demon in the room. Such hatred, such disgust, such fear; their faces mirroring the loathing you feel. No matter how well they know you, how much they claim to trust you – it's there. Lurking behind their kind eyes, covered in their pity. You're different, you're an outcast, you're what bumps in the night and hides under beds. You're a monster.

It's enough to make you wish you didn't care. That the soul within you didn't cry out to be loved, to be accepted, to be human again. That I didn't long for him, for what could never be. I yearned for the dark, for the cold, for the sweet embrace of the night.

I digress. The Magic Box. The first meeting. The first night.

"_Please, I'm not here to hurt anyone. I just needed to see a book." I'll just start small, we'll work our way up to the whole, 'hey, wanna work together to rid the world of evil?' thing._

"_Yeah, a book, some blood, maybe even a new demon chew toy. That's ok, we don't do business with bloodsucking reanimated corpses." Her eyes are so hard. Is that how I used to look at my prey?_

"_You don't understand. Look," I hold my empty hands out, "I'm unarmed. And not in fight mode. Please, I need your help." _

"_I don't help vampires. I slay them. That's kinda the deal." She advances on me, stake at the ready._

_The doorbell jingles merrily. Someone enters behind me, another vampire. Great, just what I need. A party. And me, all out of noisemakers._

"_What's all this about?" A decidedly cockney voice drawls, "A lil rumble, and me not invited?"_

_Well, might as well be helpful before I become dust. I turn quickly, leading with my right leg, catching the demon behind me at the waist. When he doubles forward, I follow with a quick jab. His head snaps back, and I body check him back against the shop window, my arm at his throat._

"_I hate party crashers," I snarl. To the slayer, "Pass me the stake!"_

_Suddenly, I feel myself being whipped around. Slayer strength throws me into a book shelf. Ok, apparently she's a kill hog. I slowly stand up and brush myself off. A glance towards the front of the store, and I'm confused again. The Slayer is standing next to the vampire –who, coincidentally, isn't dust – and they both don't look very happy. But not with each other. Nope, a second look confirms the fact that they are both, indeed, glaring at me. Note to self: never again have a vampire and a Slayer glare at you. Looks might suddenly be able to kill, and then where would you be? Not a pretty picture._

"_Ok, that hurt." The vampire is rubbing his left side, murder in his eyes. "Can I kill her?"_

"_Sorry Spike, I called her first. Besides, she interrupted my workout." Buffy approaches me, the stake that had so unfairly NOT been used against Peroxide-boy sitting Slay-ready in her hand._

"_Ok, before you kill me, can I just ask one question?" Might as well get my curiosity satisfied._

"_I hate last minute confessions." _

_All right, bad plan. I really don't want to fight an angry Slayer, but hell if I'm just going to sit around and let her stake me. I crouch, ready._

"_Buffy." A strong, quiet, British voice breaks through the killfest. "Perhaps we're being a bit hasty."_

_The girl rolls her eyes. "Let's review, shall we. Vamp tries to bite you..."_

"_I wasn't trying to bite him!" Ooh, bad look again. Maybe I should keep my mouth shut. Giles holds up his hand, silencing me._

"_Buffy, I know when I'm being attacked. This girl..."_

"_Vampire." She puts in._

"_Yes, vampire, was looking for a book. This is a store that sells books. Perhaps she was just..."_

"_Giles, focus. She's a Vam-pi-er. Evil, demon, soulless, likes to suck blood – any of this ringin a bell?"_

_The other vampire, the one called Spike, had come closer to me. He had a quizzical look on his face, the one you get when something or someone you should know is just out of reach._

"_Yes, but she said she needed help. Maybe she knows something." The Watcher looked at me, something shadowed in his eyes for a moment, then was gone. Something stirred in my brain, like the forgotten chords to a song..._

"_Not soulless." Spike joined in the ping-pong discussion. "She's got the same...smell...as Angel." He looks me up and down, disgusted. "Yep, definitely souled." He looked around, satisfied now that he had figured out that pressing issue. "So, do I get to kill her now?"_

"_No Spike," Giles said sharply, "you can't kill her. Go...sit in the corner."_

_I get the distinct impression that these two didn't like each other. Can't imagine why._

"_Ok, let me get this straight. You're a vampire. With a soul. And you need my help." Why does it sound so silly when the Slayer says it? _

_I nod. "That's the short version, yes."_

"_Well that sounds very unlikely. I mean, if you really were able to get your soul back, why would you need our help?" At some point, the bouncy shopgirl named Anya had reentered. She terrified me "Granted, Buffy is the Slayer, and demons are usually scared of the Slayer, so maybe she needs Buffy to scare someone."._

"_Right. Thank you, Anya." Buffy's Watcher gestured toward a table further in the shop. "Er, perhaps we should sit down? The others should be here soon, and we can discuss the best course of action."_

_Cue jingly bell._

"_Sorry we're late, but Wil had a ice cream attack." A slightly goofy dark-haired man entered the shop, three girls in tow. _

_Two of the girls – the first a redhead who's diminutive figure was dominated by an extra large, double scoop, chocolate cone; the other a soft feminine figure with a slight smile dancing around her face – looked to be about the same age as the goofball, the shopgirl, and the Slayer. _

_The third, a young teen, was pretty on the verge of gorgeous. Young, innocent, and – different. Hmmm...On to-do list: figure out why so many peculiar things were wrapped in human packages around here. _

"_Ah, yes. Please, do come in. We have a bit of a – situation." Giles was trying to herd everyone in to the table. He could hardly wait to crack into the problem, search for a solution; he was chomping at the bit at even this slight delay. _

_Now how do I know that? I risk a quick glance at him. I find him looking at me, his eyes searching, probing, wondering..._

"_What's up? Another Big bad out there?" The young girl plops down at the table, carelessly tossing her backpack on the floor behind her. _

_Red; tall, dark and goofy; Anya; and the soft one also take seats. Spike is still sulking by the counter. Be thankful for small favors, my dear mother always says._

"_Your show, love," the vampire says as he pulls a cigarette from a pack and places it between his lips. "Just be quick about it. I got things to do, you know."_

"_No one's keeping you. Pretty sure we could limit the meeting to the non-dead." Ok, so goofball hates the vamp too. Not a popular chap._

"_Break it up you two!" The Slayer takes the final seat at the table, leaving myself and Giles standing by narrow stairs leading up to a balcony full of books. She looks at me. "So, you need help? Talk."_

_I've had nicer introductions, but at this point I'll take what I can get. Hunger is stalking me once again, and I must not lose control. I begin my tale._

"_Into each generation a Slayer is born. She, alone among the masses, is the protector of the right, the true, and the innocent. The power of the protector and the mantel of responsibility is given to her upon her Calling. A lonely, uphill, endless battle marks her life; heartbreak scars her premature death._

"_I was called when I was 16. My Watcher's name was Elizabeth Jayn Norman. She was...a great woman. Stuffy, overly British, and obscenely fond of tea – but a good woman. A hero. She died trying to save me."_

_The memories flood back to me. The eyes – His eyes, holding me, loving me without words. The smell of Elizabeth's favorite Breakfast tea. Katie...oh God. Katie._

" _I had a friend. Katie Wood. The first vampire I ever slayed was trying to make a snack of her. A pretty decent witch. I remember the first time she ever did a spell. A binding spell, for this raid on a nest of vamps I'd stumbled across. I thought she was going to spill the ingredients, her hands were shaking so bad. Her Latin accent was horrible._

"_Her twin sister, Jena, was our heart. No matter what happened, she always found the silver lining. I wonder what happened to her? She wasn't there that night."_

_So many images. I glance at the faces around me. All eyes on me. Well, not all. The Watcher was looking at the floor, his arms across his chest. _

"_Anyway, I'd been slaying for about a year, when we got wind of this major demon named Laalym who was planning on throwing the Hellmouth in our town wide open. He's a vampire, a really old, really powerful monster, but at first we didn't take it too seriously. I mean, how many times do the big ones try to attain ultimate power through some outdated spell? If you ran around treating everything like the end of the world, you'd never have time to breathe. _

"_But, my Watcher was really big on the research. So, I spent a great deal of time looking this guy up in various books."_

"_What did you find out? I mean, was this guy a serious Big Bad?" Red pipes up. "Oh, sorry. Am I interrupting the good part?"_

"_I don't think this story has a good part, Wil." Goofball says. "And not to be cruel or cut in on the therapy session that's happening here, but I'm major confused. Is it just me, or is a lot of this story making zero sense?"_

"_Maybe we should give her a chance." the soft one next to Red joins in, "She was probably getting to that. Right?" _

_Seven pairs of eyes focus on me. Giles was still studying the floor. On to-do list: Crack the Code of the Floor. Apparently contains the Meaning of Life._

"_Well, I don't know about the rest of you buggers, but I'm getting bored." Spike throws his half smoked cig on the floor, grinds it in with the heel of his boot – apparently he enjoys the Slayer Glare. "I mean, here we are, ten minutes into a random vamp's story, and we don't even know her name."_

_Ah. I hate it when the annoying alpha males are right._

"_Sorry. I'm a bit...confused yet tonight." I'm getting a lot of miles out of that excuse. "My name is Theresa. Theresa Reayon. I hate my name. But I was named after my mom. Her name was Marta Theresa, and so I'm Theresa Marta. You can call me Tessa, if you want, cause...And your names?" Must...end...babbling. _

"_Oh. I'm Dawn. I'm Buffy's little sister." The young one smiles at me, wide open and unafraid. Ah, the unblemished innocence of youth. Still no clue why she seems so different. The mystery continues._

"_I'm Willow. This is Tara. It's nice to meet you Tessa" Red also smiles at me, her hand entwined with the soft one – Tara. _

"_Xander Harris." No smile from the goofball. So, he heard the Vampire comment from Spike. Goody, another source of glares. Just when I was running out of things to put on my 'Reasons why today sucks' list._

"_Buffy. The Vampire Slayer. You can call me 'the one who's still waiting for a reason not to introduce you to Mr. Pointy'." Her much too cheery voice clashes with the death grip she still has on her stake._

"_Come now, Buffy." The Watcher's soft voice gently reprimands his slayer. His eyes never leave the floor._

"_And I'm Spike. I'm a vampire. I like to drink blood. I also like long walks on the bloody beach. Are we done with the feel-goods yet?" Testy bugger, ain't he?_

"_Oh, and Giles." Willow says. British Tweed never looks up. "He's Buffy's watcher." _

_A thousand moments of awkward silence. What do you say to someone who's trying so terribly hard to ignore your existence? I'm sure Miss Manners has addressed this very issue. Must look into that._

_Finally Willow goes on. "And the Big Bad...was he? A Big Bad, that is?"_

"_Yeah." And the 'Understatement of the Year' award goes to..._

"_Oh." She looks vaguely disappointed. _

"_When we studied Laalym, we realized that he'd tried this before. He was a lot older than any of us thought. Jena found the earliest references to him in manuscripts discovered from the Crusades. And every twenty seven years, he'd try to open a Hellmouth."_

"_Why twenty seven?" Xander questioned._

"_It had something to do with Luna – Neptune. It's his ruling planet. One year for each of Luna's days. It's all in the book I was asking for."_

"_Clansen's Demonic Rituals Explained?" Giles asked. Finally his eyes raised, meeting mine._

"_Yes" I all but whisper. Oh God. I think..._

"_I'll go get that then. It's in my office." Didn't know tweed could move that fast. And here I thought it was more of a mosey fabric._

"_Ok, so basically this..." Buffy looks at me. _

"_Laalym." I supply._

"_Right. Laalym wants to open the Hellmouth again." _

"_Basically. He's using a pretty complicated spell. However, unlike all the other Big Bads who use the blood of a virgin by a full moon at sunrise or some other such nonsense, this spell works. If he should complete it, well...let's just say we very much don't want that to happen." _

"_Wait a sec." Xander cut in. "You're still here. Albeit, vamped out, but still here. No big crater, no demon overrun town, right? So, you stopped him." He looked around, a desperate smile on his face. "Right?"_

"_I delayed him." Memories. Images. Blood. A corpse, Katie's corpse, her blood still on my lips. My soul, returning...his eyes..._

"_Delayed? That doesn't sound very permanent." Xander Harris, king of Obvioustown, strikes again._

"_No. No it was a little less permanent that we'd hoped. But it was the best I could do."_

"_So now you need my help to stop him, permanently." Buffy's eyes were searching mine, looking for a weakness, a indication I was betraying her. I meet her eyes, allowing her full access. Nothing hidden, nothing held back. I need her. I don't have time to be coy._

"_Yes."_

_One more look. Then a nod. "Go on."_

_Ok, she lost me. "Go on?"_

"_With your story. How did you get turned?"_

_Ah. Of course. That would be particular interest to her. Giles returns out of his office, a familiar manuscript in hand. _

"_Here." He opens it up to the section on Laalym of Luna. "I think this is what you're looking for."_

"_Thank you." I look at him. Oh God. I think I know. But now is not the time nor the place. Hunger is stalking me. I can hold him off for a few more hours, then feeding or unconsciousness are my only two options for escape. _

_My eyes instead search the pages; my fingers tracing the words, as if to connect me with a time I yearn for. There, the section I need. I make a mental note, and go back to the beginning of the chapter._

"_The ritual is only hinted at here. But my Watcher and my friends managed to piece together information from several sources, 'till we had a pretty complete picture of what Laalym was attempting." I look up at all of them. This time, even Giles' eyes were focused on me. Or rather, on the book I was holding. At least he wasn't trying to bore a hole through the helpless floor any longer._

"_What he needs is to take an innocent, a Pure Heart, and turn it into the Once Pure. Then the Once Pure must feed on the Still Pure and Helpless. After, the Once Pure will be ensouled again – ensouled, but cursed. Willingly drinking human blood will cast the soul out for all eternity and open the Hellmouth."_

_Silence. Willow and Tara's faces are white, their hands gripping each other as a lifeline. Spike has taken up the floor-watching vigil. I have a feeling he knew more than the rest. Buffy, Xander, Anya, and Dawn are still watching me, waiting for a further explanation. _

_Giles – Giles is holding me with his gaze. At some point in my recitation, he has focused on my face. I think he knows too. If only..._

_I sigh. That's my motto, folks. Fourth rule of Slaying – don't let those personal demons get in the way of killing the real and public ones. A.K.A. 'The rule that kills your social life'._

_I take up my story again, "About two weeks after we first figured out that Laalym might be more than just your average bloodsucker on a power trip, a future Watcher from England came to spend the summer holiday with my Watcher. Elizabeth was a friend of the family, and his parents were having to take part in Council business out of country. His name was Daniel. He was the one who finally put the pieces together to figure out the ritual Laalym was attempting to perform._

"_The sad part about this spell is that it can take place at any time. It's only dependent on the ingredients, not the period or place. So, we had no idea when we might be expected to save the world. Again. Therefore, we decided to go on the offensive. That is, I decided to go on the offensive. My Watcher advocated restraint and planning. I wanted nothing to do with it."_

Guilt isn't something that hits you suddenly, like Fear or Love or Hate. Guilt oils, twists, oozes into your core, until you can't imagine what it was like without it. Until it takes over everything else. Until it infects every part of your being. Guilt took my breath away, replaced every other thought and emotion. Guilt became my self.

"_We attacked at dawn. He was ready. I don't know how, but he knew we were coming. We never had a chance. At first, I thought we might break through the ranks. Katie was doing some pretty fancy mojo, and Jena was killer with a crossbow. We dusted probably half the vamps, Daniel and I leading the drive. God, he could fight. He'd get into the thick of it, a blur in the center of all these vampires. And then, he'd laugh. It was the most amazing sound. He enjoyed it. He said it made him feel alive._

"_Together we cleared a path up to Laalym for Elizabeth. She was a great hand-to-hand combatant. She fought him with everything she had. Finally, he thrust right, and she ducked left. His heart was exposed. She plunged the stake into his chest. Everything just kind of – stopped. The vamps all came to a standstill, like we had stabbed them all with one stroke. All clutching their chests, all looking towards their Master. _

Life changing moments don't come with pre-cursors. They don't warn you that they're coming. There's no way to plan for them. One minute, your world is as you know it. Good, bad, happy, tragic, beginning, ending, whatever. It's your life, your existence, and it is Now. Then, Something Happens. One moment that changes everything. Then, no matter what your life was before, it can never be that again. It becomes After. And there's no going back. No negotiating. No sequels or dramatic comebacks. It's over.

"_Laalym, with Elizabeth's stake thrust through his chest, looked at me. And I knew. And I couldn't stop it. His hand reached out to my Watcher, his eyes never left mine. And he snapped her neck. That's all, just snapped it, like you snap a dead branch off a tree. No last minute heroics, no grand battle scene, no swelling music or dying speech. He killed her as offhandedly as you talk about the weather with your waitress. And I didn't save her. _

"_Daniel was the one who got us out of there. He fought through the rest of the vamps to get Elizabeth's body. He rallied Jena and Katie to get all of us out of the building. He herded us home. He buried Elizabeth."_

_Here I break. I don't even know where Daniel buried her. Suddenly, I'm filled with an overwhelming desire to visit her grave, with the obligatory flowers, and talk to her. God, I miss her._

"_What...what happened after that? I mean, did the Watcher's council send someone else?" Dawn's tremulous voice broke my melancholy. I looked up._

"_No. No they didn't."_

"_Wait. That makes no sense at all." Xander, leans forward, his eyes glancing at Giles, then back at me. "The Council isn't one to lose control. No way does the Slayer get to roam free and Watcherless when Big Bad is in town. That's not exactly their MO. Right Giles?"_

_I cut in before Giles can answer. "We didn't give them that choice. As far as they knew, Elizabeth was still alive." Accusatory and incredulous glances all round. "Look, we didn't have time to wait for the Council to deliberate. We were at war. My Watcher had just been killed."_

"_So what? You just marched in there and got yourself vamped?" Again with Xander and his pointy teeth envy. "Oh yeah, I totally trust your judgement in all things battle-like. You and Spike, totally trustworthy." _

"_That's enough." A sharp British tone cuts through. Giles glares over the top of his glasses at Xander. "I don't know what has made you think that you are worthy to stand and judge someone you know so little about, but I think you need to seriously reconsider that assessment. You will keep your comments to yourself, or you will leave this establishment. Now." He looks around the room, "Questions are acceptable, even necessary. But accusations and petty quibbling over past events are going to get us nowhere. Agreed?"_

_Nods of assent from all, even Spike. Though the snarky grin he flashes Xander kind of negates the submissive head nod. _

_Xander even goes so far as to mumble an "I'm sorry" in my direction. Will wonders never cease? I smile slightly at him. No hard feelings from me. He says nothing I don't already think of myself. _

"_Ok. So, you're down a Watcher and you have to fight a super-vamp, who apparently can't be staked?" Buffy said. "That fell into the question category, right? Cause you're scary when you get mean."_

_Giles smiled softly at the Slayer. "I don't mean to be, er, scary. We just have something huge to face. If everything I've heard about this demon is true, Theresa might be our best and only hope to defeating him."_

"_Right. So, are we ever going to finish this story, 'cause I'm beginning to think that eternity might not be long enough." Ahh...I knew the blessed silence from the Blonde Bombshell had gone on just a bit too long._

"_Don't worry, oh Leather Clad One, I'm almost done. It's just my life, so I'll cut out the boring, angsty parts where everyone I know dies a horrible death. Wouldn't want to interrupt your play time." Hunger makes me testy._

"_That's more like it." Spike lit up another cigarette and settled back against the counter._

"_Anyway, yeah, Laalym was too tough for a stake – at least any stake that could realistically be carried around. So, we decided to live by the sword. Two nights after Elizabeth was killed, Daniel, Katie and I marched into Laalym's stronghold. Our only goal was to kill Laalym. We fully expected death to meet us there._

"_Katie set up a protection spell and worked on rudimentary fire bolts and things of that nature. Daniel and I just went hand to hand. We beat down flunky after flunky, but more kept coming. Then, Laalym oozed in. We were all prepared to fight. We weren't ready for a trap._

"_I'm pretty certain that every vampire ever sired showed up that night. We dusted a hundred or more, but where one went down, two sprung up. It was suicide. My whole world narrowed down to the vampire in front of me. Gradually I realized that the fire bolts had stopped. Then, through the dusty remains of vamp number one hundred and thirty six, I saw four of the demons jump Daniel, pulling him to the floor. As I ran forward to help, three vampires grabbed me from behind. I frantically looked around, seeking some flash of brilliancy, some stroke of genius to save our lives. Instead, I saw Katie, unconscious, draped over a crate. _

"_The vamps holding me forced me towards a platform, where Laalym was waiting. He smiled at me, the kind of smile that twists your gut and chills your spine. _

"'_I knew you would come. I knew your pathetic loyalties couldn't allow me to live. And I knew you would bring the rest of the ingredients to the spell with you. Well done.' He chuckled, he smiled, he killed all hope left within me. I had murdered us all. First Elizabeth with my impetuousness, now Daniel and Katie because of my grief._

"_We had figured out the spell, but we weren't sure exactly what it meant. Now we were about to find out first hand. I was prepared to die fighting, and I gripped my forgotten sword, ready to take as many of them out with me as I could. He expected it. _

"'_I wouldn't do that if I were you child.' His smile trickled across his face. Laalym gestured towards the back of the room. Four vampires were holding Daniel up. His brow was bleeding into his blackened eye, cuts and scrapes marred his face. They twisted his arms behind him, forcing him to look up to me. 'Any move you make will kill him instantly.' The Vampire Master gazed at me, a triumphant expression on his heinous features. I was utterly defeated._

"_I dropped my sword._

"_Laalym stepped towards me, the victorious crowing over the defeated. 'Good, good. Now, we begin!' He clapped his hands, and the Vampires holding me stepped back. Laalym began to chant. _

"'_I offer the Pure Heart, to make her UnPure. I offer her to the night, to the hunt, to the blood, to the Hunger. I offer her heart and I make her BECOME!' _

"_His teeth bit into me, he began to drink of my life. It was like..."_

Again, I must stop here. To relive that moment would be worse than experiencing it. There are no words in this tongue to fully describe being taken by a vampire. It is an occurrence most don't retell. It is...painful...and wonderful, all at the same time. On one hand, you can feel yourself dying, by degrees, by drops. You can sense the life flowing out of you, Death wrapping around you, Light fleeing from you. On the other, you want it, need it, desire it, more than anything else. Every vampire is looking for that feeling again. It is almost better than life, greater than death, bigger than Hunger, and stronger than the Light. But is a fleeting moment, never to be held again. And it is better not dwelt on.

"_The last thing I remember of the human world is Daniel's eyes, holding mine. Then, the bitter taste of my Sire's blood, and a deep nothingness. _

"_I awoke. It was like exploding. All I felt was Hunger. He possessed me, filling my senses, dominating my being. I felt nothing, saw nothing, desired nothing outside of him. Something warm was pressed against my seeking hands. As if from a distance I heard my Master's voice booming, an undercurrent of another spell harmonizing with his overtones. 'I sacrifice the Still Pure and Helpless to the Once Pure's Hunger. I give the Once Pure over to Hunger, that he and she may become one.' _

"_The hunter within me, the demon lurking, emerged, unhindered by anything as passe and fleeting as a soul. I grabbed the body sacrificed to my desire, ravaged it, gulping the blood in heaving swallows. I drained it dry, tossed it aside. My world was viewed through a crimson haze, bloodlust stirring in my core, Hunger caressing my body. _

"_I reveled in my newfound freedom, my power, my Hunger. The world was mine and I would destroy it. The underspell and my Master's overspell became louder, more real. _

"'_I return the soul of the Once Pure, that she may know Guilt, that she may fall from Becoming, hate what she has become. I curse the soul of the Once Pure with this – if Hunger overtakes her, if what she has become reveals it's true nature, if human blood again slakes her thirst, she will lose her last thread of humanity; may she Open the Gateway with her bloodlust, may she destroy the world with her Hunger!'_

"_A jolt of pure energy pierced my body, seeking to destroy me. I felt as if a war is raging in my being – the demon which had been exploring it's recently dominated power and a familiar presence, a Light, unleashed. A struggle, in which I was sure I was going to be torn apart. Then, the Light took control. The Hunger receded, the bloodlust was beaten back. I remembered who I was, what I had become._

"_I looked around, desperate to find answers. My hand reached up, touched my lip, pulled back. My fingertips were red, dripping, bloodstained. I looked down in horror. Katie's sightless eyes were staring back at me, her throat covered in her blood. My brain froze, my body collapsed to it's knees. Then, I raised my eyes._

"_He was staring at me, dismay and fear and sorrow etched in his eyes. Daniel's captors had dropped his arms, he was supporting himself. My Watcher was murdered, I had killed my best friend, but Daniel was still alive, he still had a chance. I might be lost and my life might be over, but for the first time since Laalym's eyes met mine over Elizabeth's helpless form, I had real hope. _

"_Laalym started the final part of the spell. When I was supposed to willingly drink the blood of a human, lose my soul, and bring about Armageddon in the name of Laalym. Right. Not bloody likely. _

"_The sword I had dropped in my despair laid under Katie's limp hand. Oh God. Katie. No, no time to think, to dwell, to grieve. Soon I would be gone. A forgotten passage of text had come to mind. Cryptic, but I thought I now understood. I knew what I would do._

"_Laalym reached his hands up to the heavens, beseeching dark powers to start their evil work. I took that moment to strike. I grabbed the sword, and thrust upward, plunging it into Laalym. My eyes met Daniel's. Screams, blood, fire, pain. Darkness. Cold. Then, I awoke._

"_And was met by one of Laalym's flunkies, directed here, and," I looked around the room, "here I am."_

_Silence greets the end of my tale. Hunger rears its head, but again I delay it. I remember all, and I grieve. I grieve for Katie, for Elizabeth, for the life I have forfeited. Worse than the pain of loss is the knowledge that I must face it all again. That is reason enough to make me wish the Slayer had staked first and asked questions later._

"_So we've gotta protect Buffy." Dawn speaks first. "I mean, this Laalym is going to be looking for her. We can't let him get her."_

"_Willow and I can do a barrier spell. That should keep any demons – vampires and all – away from her." Tara glances at Willow for confirmation, they hold a conference with their eyes in the way only lovers can._

"_Guys, that's going to hamper the whole Slayer thing." Buffy glances around the table. "Really, thanks Tara, but I can handle it. I'll just go in there and chop off ol' what's his name's head. Spike can back me up. He's expendable."_

_Spike grimaces at her comment. "Really now, that's uncalled for." _

"_Well, maybe not a barrier spell then." Willow put in, "There's got to be some sort of protection thingy we can whip up. Let Tara and me do a little something of the research variety. We'll think of something."_

_Xander was not to be outdone. "I want to help too! Anya and I can help with the researchy stuff. Right Anya?"_

_The girl-who-smells-funny rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I guess so. Although I'd like to point out that I always get the dusty jobs."_

"_Duly noted" rejoins Xander. _

_A flurry of activity starts. Willow is handing books to Tara, who distributes them around the table. Spike joins the group at the table, talking strategy and street sources they can hit up for information. No one seems to notice Giles' lack of verbiage or my jaw hitting the floor. Perhaps I should break up their 'protect Buffy' kick. Gee, I hate to be the party pooper, but..._

"_Uh, pardon me." Ah, the glares again. Just when I started to miss them. "Sorry to interrupt, but, what are you doing?"_

_Xander's glare changes from pure hatred to incredulous. "We're trying to save Buffy's life. We're trying to keep her from turning into you. Now, if you're going to get in the way, I suggest you leave. Thanks for the heads up, sorry bout your Watcher and all that. But..."_

"_I don't think you understand." My voice is stronger now. I am remembering things about my life, about myself, before Laalym. I don't have time for pissy little boys. I have a world to save. "Buffy isn't in danger. At least, not of turning into me. Not while I'm here."_

_Deep breath. That would be so much more effective if I had to breathe. "The spell wasn't completed. But it also wasn't broken. I'm still here, still alive, still souled. That means..."_

"_That means that Laalym isn't looking for Buffy. He's looking for Theresa." Giles said. The flurry stills. The glares disappear. _

"_Oh. Well." Xander was almost cute when he realized he was an ass._

"_We have work to do. We must find out how to kill Laalym. I assume the fact that you've risen means he's also here, in Sunnydale." The Watcher had a most intriguing way of talking to me without actually looking my direction._

"_Yes. At least that's what his little ambassador implied. Like I said, the spell has nothing to do with time frame. He just needs the ingredients. Me. Once he's within his twenty seventh year, he has free reign."_

"_Well that's not very helpful." Anya put in. "I mean, he could at least have the common curtsey to have a specific time table if he's going to try to end the world. Honestly, vampires are the rudest demons."_

"_Yes, well, Laalym's pretty impatient. I'd give it a week, maybe two. He's going to move fast once he finds out I've told you everything." I am pretty sure I could find out exact dates for this engagement with hell. However, I don't know if I want the Slayer groupies to know it just yet. 'Remember what has happened' Laalym said. It's a warning I don't intend to take lightly. No one will die for my misjudgments. Never again._

Never again.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy The Vampire Slayer, her friends, or Mr. Pointy. Those belong to Joss Whedon. Sigh I also do not own Theresa, Laalym, Edward, Mr. Branchey or his offspring (the illustrious Mr. Branchey Jr.). These belong to a poka-dotted plot bunny named Hubert. Who is currently chewing on my leg. **

**AN: This is the first very long chapter in a story that has been rolling around in my head for quite some time. I know it's confusing, and quite frankly I admire you for sticking around this long. Much thanks and cookies have to go to my very patient friends: J. for reading and encouraging, my ever wondrous roommate for constantly assuring me that Spike wasn't coming out all crazylike, and the illustrious HonorH – otherwise known as Miss H, headmistress of OBAFU – whom I have the distinct privilege and constant pleasure of being able to stalk...er...know. Finally, thanks to Rupert Giles – whom I insist must actually exist and who begged me to tell this story. **

**And to you, dear reader. Reviews make me do the snoopy dance. Just so you know.**


	2. Vampires

Sunlight, her flaxen countenance infused with a virgin's first blush, was receding. Her brother Night's ebony face was seeping closer, his starlight glinting crown dusting the eastern sky. I was still held in my stone prison. But not for long. Night's faithful companion is Hunger; his wan grin and bony fingers would stretch forth as Night's cloak enveloped the earth.

I hadn't much time. Tonight was the third night I had spent in Sunnydale. I grew weaker with every passing sunset. Perhaps it's the lack of feeding. I'd heard that starving yourself is an effective way to bring about feebleness. Probably should look into that.

In the three days since my entrance into The Magic Box I had seen the Slayer once, and her friends not at all. Spike, as loathful as the fact was, was my most faithful companion. He and I patrolled each night, looking into possible Laalym locations. He would be coming by for me soon. Placing the journal on a convenient dusty protruding stone, I waited.

I thought about Katie, about her untimely death and my overwhelming grief, and guilt. I thought about Elizabeth, my most faithful Watcher, my dearest friend. I thought about Jena. What had happened to her? There were still a few pieces of the puzzle to be had. But where to get them?

I thought about Daniel. He was wild and impetuous, full of fire and passion and zeal. He believed in each moment, each second. Both proud of his heritage and longing to be out from under a destiny he hadn't chosen. I missed him so much. The lack of him, waking and not finding him with me, that was the hardest thing I had to endure.

My grief over losing him was compounded by Things Not Said. Those are the worst than all the mistakes, all the horror, all the wrongness of my life. I could only pray he had gotten out of Laalym's hold that night unscathed. I could only hope he had gone on with his life.

"Well then, waiting for an invitation" The familiar cocky voice broke my thoughts. Spike had arrived and I hadn't even heard him enter my crypt. Some Slayer I was.

"Sorry" I said, hastily gathering my weapons from the floor"just was...thinking."

"Pretty deep thinking for this early in the evening." His eyes bored into mine. For all his bluff and blowing, he was really surprisingly intuitive. And he'd kill me in an instant if I told anyone I'd thought that.

I shrugged. "Yeah, well. Couldn't sleep." Again.

He continued to look at me for a moment. Not in an overly kind way, just a hunter sizing up his partner; looking for weaknesses that could get him killed. After a bit, he gave a quick nod and gestured toward the door.

The night was fresh, cool. After reliving my horrors all day, it was a bit like paradise. To a vampire, the Night is much more than a time of day. He's a friend, an old lover. He wraps us up in his embrace, provides us with the hunt, feeds our Hungers. We are Night's children, his blessed, his beloved. We, like no other creature, belong to him. To a vampire, a walk at Night is like coming home.

"Have you heard anything? From Buffy and Company, I mean." Even to my ears, I sounded too eager.

"Yeah. They don't know. Red and the other Witch have been looking for a spell to take this Laalym out, but no go. Little Bit, Anya and her Poof boyfriend have been researching Big Bad himself. Also a big fat zero." Spike's frustration was evident. He just wanted to kill something, anything. Having a big mean vampire so close and not being able to kick the undead shit out of it was irking him. I completely understood.

We walked out of the cemetery. "Not to sound ungrateful, but why isn't Buffy here? I mean, she is the current Slayer. I wouldn't think that she'd trust two muzzled Vampires to do her job..." Spike whirled around, glaring. Apparently I'd just committed to unspeakable sin: to criticize her royal Buffyness.

"Listen, I don't know what you think you're on about, but the Slayer has a lot more than your raggedy vampire to worry about. She's just lost her mum, she has to watch out for the Bit, and Laalym isn't the only show in town you know." His face was a scant few inches from mine, his indignation and suppressed rage shadowed in his eyes. "So I suggest you just sod off about things you don't understand. Right"

He pulled back, practically growling. Then it hit me. He was in love with her. A chipped vampire was in love with a Slayer. It was like a bad romance novel. How could a human ever love a vampire?

How indeed.

"I'm sorry" I said, trying to backpedal. "I didn't know. I...I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well. Right." He was casting about, looking for a change of subject, a way to distract from the feelings boiling so close to the surface. I knew because I was feeling the same way. Avoidance had become my survival instinct.

"So, who is this other menace that darkens Sunnydale's boarders" I figured I'd give the poor guy an out. Lord knows I didn't want to talk about my squish feelings right then, either. "Vampire, voodoo demon, big hairy puppies, what"

Silence from the peanut gallery. He looked...grim. This was unnerving.

"What? It can't be that bad. I mean, you've got what? Two witches, a vampire, and a Watcher – not to mention the Slayer. What could possibly go up against that arsenal"

"We don't know." It was a quiet confession. Defeat is a sour taste, one I doubt Spike was used to choking down. "Buffy's run against her a few times, got beaten pretty bad."

"Oh."

"Hell god. That's what we know. But that's about all we know. And it's bloody not enough to kill her."

He was stopped in the middle of the path, his leather clad back to me, shoulders slumped. "I can't kill her."

The distance between what should have been and what is sometimes seems a chasm deeper than black and wider than thunder. Yet you can breach it with a touch, a word, a thought, a deed done. I stepped forward and placed my hand on the back of a stranger, a foe in another time, now an uneasy ally in a battle I couldn't win. I stepped away from my story and, for that one moment, wrapped myself in his. I cared.

We stood for a few beats of eternity, two strangers on a planet with no place for us. No room at the inn. We both heartbreakingly loved, we both knew the futility of such an emotion. We were children of the Night, partners in it's Hunger, siblings of the Pain.

"I love her." He rasped. To himself, to the stars, to her. I simply overheard.

A sudden motion from the cemetery behind us jolted us alive. Five vampires, all big, mean, and ugly, popped out from behind headstones. Is there a club these guys join? The 'Hi, I'm a big hairy overgrown undead lummox' club? Cause I definitely need to read some of their literature.

Spike whirled into action, charging the largest of the large with a battle cry. I followed close behind. We ducked, we dodged, we hit, we kicked – and I won't deny biting – and we dusted. I fell into the familiar battle routine: Hitkickstabdust, rinse, repeat. Fifth Rule of Slaying – don't get too involved in your groove. Routine can get you killed.

Too bad I don't listen to myself.

As I was dusting Mr. Ugly of the Year, one of the Vamps caught me from behind. I should have been able to throw him off, I should have been able to shake him, I should have watched my back. Unfortunately, this guy did seem a big fan of do-overs. He began to tighten his titan grip around my midsection.

"Let's see if I can make your head pop off." He chuckled.

"Daniel..." I choked. Then all went black.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Buffyworld and it's inhabitants are claimed by the high Geekoid Joss. Theresa is owned by a Hubert the plot-bunny. He likes to nibble on socks.

A/N: Thanks for reading along! Please, review. I'm not going to beg. I'm going to bribe. All reviewers will get...a shrubbery!


	3. Conversations

"I think we should slap her."

"Anya, we're not going to slap anyone."

"Well, that's what they do in movies. If you weren't such a big stuffy British type, you'd know that."

"Anya!"

"Sorry. I'm just trying to help."

"Well, can you do it from the other room? Go get Willow."

"Fine. Just send the ex-demon away. It's not as if she's a productive member of society..."

"Anya!"

Oof. Head. Hurting. Everything was kind of hazycrazy, like all the voices were from some other dimension, leaking through to my nightmares. Where was I? When was I? I was having this awful dream, a waking horror – could it be over?

"Willow! I think she's starting to come round. Right. Could you bring in that mug from my microwave?"

"Daniel?" My voice rasped, my heart leaped, my eyes opened – and it all came back in a rush. The redhead, Willow, was leaning over me, a "Kiss the Librarian" mug in one hand. I was lying on a faded couch, in someone's living room. Tara was standing behind Willow, Dawn was in a chair.

"What happened? I was patrolling, then...everything gets kind of dark."

"You collapsed," Willow said, handing me the mug. "Spike brought you here."

"Where's here?" I sat up. The mug was full of blood. My nostrils twitched at the gorgeous scent. Cow's blood.

"It's Mr. Giles' house. H-h-he invited you in." Tara sat on the edge of the couch, ventured a smile. "I think he wants you to s-s-stay here, f-for now."

"Oh." I handed the mug back to Tara. "Thank you, but I can't drink this."

"What's wrong? Is it not hot enough? Or too hot? There wasn't a 'blood' button on the microwave, so I had to guess." Willow took the cup from Tara. "And Spike was no help at all. Just kept glaring and muttering and being all..."

"Spikey?" offered Dawn.

"Yeah. Spikey." Willow finished.

"No. I mean yes. I mean, I'm sure the temperature is fine. It's just that, I can't drink blood."

"I t-thought that was human blood." Tara said.

"It is. I mean, the curse specifies that drinking the blood of a human causes imminent soul lossage, etc. But...what if it IS human blood?"

"No, Spike got it from the butcher himself. It's yucky cow's blood." Dawn obviously wasn't getting it. I would have to explain slower. Maybe with smaller words.

"But a human butchered the cow. A human collected the blood. What if he cut himself? If there's even a drop, the tiniest speck...I could lose everything. I can't risk it. Not just because I'm Hungry." The world was spinning again. I leaned my head down, fighting back the darkness that was rimming my vision.

"You have to, love. You almost got me sodding killed out there." Spike had entered, carrying his own mug of bloody goodness.

"But, the curse..."

"Hang the curse. I've been drinking out of the same bag as you, and there's no human blood there. Believe me. Nothing but sodding cow." He took another sip, then gestured to the mug in Willow's hands. "Well? Drink up. Heath, wealth, and all that."

I gingerly took the offered cup. Inhaling, I swam in the aroma. My eyes slowly opened, searching out the older vampire's.

He raised his mug slightly in salute. "I'll stake you myself. Cheers."

So, for the second time in my undead life, I drank warm cow's blood from a cup. Both times, Hunger had nearly driven me mad. Both times, my offering to him drove him back, just in the nick of time. I immersed myself in the textures, the colors, the blinding flashes of the lifeblood. It was only a small sliver of what the demon in me craved, but it was enough. It would always have to be enough.

Spike kept feeding me blood until I complained that I was going to pop. After that unpleasant mental picture, he took his leave, snarkaly pointing out all the excess patrolling he'd have to do. Very uncivilized to mention a lady's illness in front of her.

However, I wasn't completely devastated to see him go. It was like all the excess tension in the world suddenly decided to cram itself into Rupert Giles' living room. Very uncomfortable. And speaking of my host – he was nowhere to be found.

"Willow, where's Rupert?" We were all sitting around stiffly, pretending we weren't dreadfully uneasy.

"Giles? He's...umm...he actually...well, you know how the British are! I mean, they...he...well..." Suddenly Willow seemed to lose the ability to speak.

Luckily, Anya will never have that problem. "He went to the Magic Box. You know, he's been acting really weird. Ever since you showed up. I mean, he's always acted weird. He's so...tweedy. But this is really Giles weird. I think he was also wigged out by the fight."

"Ok, I understood maybe two words of that. Could someone translate?"

"M-Mr. Giles went to the Magic Box. Actually, that's w-where Willow and I need to go, t-t-too." Tara looked very pleased with herself. Probably because of the excellent segue and exit plan all in one neat package.

"Yeah, that was the one thing I got, actually." I sighed, rising from the couch and beginning to pace. At least that funny buzzing in my head had gone. "What do you mean he's been acting weird since I showed up. What's different about him?"

The girls exchanged glances. Finally Dawn spoke up. "It's like he knows you, but is trying to ignore you. Like when you see someone you hate in the grocery store, you keep your head down and try not to walk down the same isles as them?"

She glanced around. Anya, Willow, and Tara were staring at her, mouths agape. Obviously they had wanted to search for information a little more subtly than that.

"Or something like that. Whatever." Dawn finished weakly, sinking back in her chair.

Pulling back the curtains, I stared out into the moonlit street. "I am a vampire. Maybe he's just uneasy about me being around everyone. I don't have a chip to control me. I'm a monster, an unleashed demon. And I have Slayer strength on top of that. I'd be worried too, if I was him."

The group again exchanged glances. They were saved from answering by the door being swung open and Xander making a noisy entrance.

"Hello ladies! What'd I miss?"

Anya rose hastily and greeted him with a kiss. "Nothing much. Let's go."

"So eager to go? What's up?" Xander smiled quizzically at her, then looked up. His eyes met mine. Let's just say that the Xan-man and I won't be entering any three legged races together in the near future.

"Ah. Gotcha. Well, we do actually have to skedaddle. Buffy sent me to get Dawn." He forced a smile of greeting in my direction. "Get your coat Dawnie. We have to have you home in thirty minutes or less, or your sister will flip."

I nodded towards him. He took both Anya and Dawn by the arm, and kept a close eye on me as they said goodnight to the Witches. Finally, they departed. Surprisingly, Willow and Tara stayed.

"You know, I'm a big girl. I can probably manage all by my lonesome..." Trailing off, I saw the nervous looks on both of their faces. "But you can't leave me, can you? Probably have orders not to leave me alone. Yeah." Keep the monster contained.

Sixth Rule of Slaying - Choose your battles wisely. If you expend all your energy on the minions, you won't have anything left for the Big Bad. Rupert Giles was being wise. He didn't trust me. Heck, I didn't trust me. It was pointless to be offended by common sense.

Flopping back down on the couch, I looked at Tara. "Well, then. Tell me about yourself."

I think I shocked her. "W-w-what? M-m-me?"

"Yeah. I'm assuming that you can't leave till Mr. Tweed-of-the-Year gets back. I've told you my life story. Might as well talk about you." I put on my best 'you can trust me' smile and leaned forward.

"What do you want to know?" Willow asked, obviously joining me in trying to make the best of an awkward situation.

"Well, you're both into the witch thing, right?"

"Yeah. I've been doing it for a couple years now. Tara's been into it longer."

"B-but Willow's better at it." Tara smiled tenderly at her lover.

It was like, in an instant, they could be in their own world -their own safe haven. A bubble of love, where only warm fuzzy things happened. I'd seen the same type of look pass between Xander and Anya. Even Buffy and Dawn had their own 'sister bubble', where they knew everything about each other and the love was still there. More than anything else, I longed for that. More than anything else, that was the one thing that was forever denied to me.

"How did you two meet?" I questioned. They broke their gaze, and Willow told me their story.

It was simple and sweet, though I must admit I didn't really listen to the words. I was captivated by the love that was evident; by the laughter at a forgotten joke, the blushes over remembering the awkward first crush. I was completely enthralled by the raw humanity they exemplified. This was why I fought. This was why I would die again. So people could meet and laugh and love and Live. Apart from the sorrow, the pain, the Hunger, the blood, there was this. And this was why a Slayer could endure all the darkness - because she knew of the light.

"And now we're all part of the Scooby gang." Willow finished.

"I'm sorry...the Scooby gang?" Confusion must have been evident on my face, because both women began to laugh.

"Sorry, I forgot you didn't speak the lingo." She continued, "Scooby gang - that's us. Tara, me, Xander, Anya, Giles, Buffy..."

"Maybe even Spike." Tara laughed. "When he's not being all..."

"Spikey?" I supplied.

"Right. Spikey." Tara agreed.

"Ok, so I get you guys being part of this gang - the witch thing comes in handy when dealing with otherworldly powers. And Buffy is a given, so's Giles, and even Spike. But, I must admit I don't get Anya and Xander. What do they do?"

"Anya is an ex-demon - long story - so she provides some valuable info. She also really likes money. But I guess that isn't exactly a selling point." Willow said, smiling.

"Wow. Ex-demon. That explains some stuff. Ok, Anya's in. But what about Xander? Army commando? Firearms expert? Werewolf? What's his shtick?"

Yet more glances exchanged. On to-do list: Learn to speak without words. Will probably come in handy with this group.

"Xander is...he's...our heart, you know?" Willow tried to explain. "He's the one that believes in us, he holds us together. Without him...I don't think we'd still be a group. He's our sticky super glue."

I knew exactly what she meant. The person that never thought the worst would come, who always believed there would be a tomorrow. Even when it was darkest, even when you'd given up hope, they trusted you. They believed in you. And that made you believe in yourself.

"I know...I knew someone like that. Her name was Jena. She never gave up."

"Yeah, that's Xander too. Oh, he cracks jokes sometimes. But I don't think he ever loses faith in Buffy...in all of us." Willow was looking at me intently.

"Do you think they mind it? All the weight we put on them? Sometimes I didn't go to her, didn't tell her what woke me up in the middle of the night, because I didn't want to lean too hard on her. I didn't want her to feel like a crutch, you know?" I said.

"I know." Willow said.

"I-I think they need the weight." Tara spoke up. I think Willow and I had almost forgotten she was there. "That's how they're made. They love us, so they try to take up some of the burden for us. Xander...I think he'd go crazy if we tried to lighten his load. He holds us up because that's how he shows his love. He needs us as much as we need him."

At that moment, Rupert Giles walked into the room.

He was wearing the usual tweed, his glasses perched on his nose, a book in hand. In other words, the poster-child Watcher. Yet, something was different: in the way he strode into the room, his stance, the set of his mouth. I knew that look. He'd made a decision, now he was ready to act. I just hoped I was ready as well.

"Willow, Tara. Right. Thank you for staying with Theresa." His gaze fixed on me. "I know you both are ready to call it a night. I'll see you tomorrow."

Both girls looked shocked at this apparently out of character dismissal. But they gathered up their things wordlessly and bid us a quick goodnight. I looked longingly at the door. This was not something I was looking forward to.

"Tessa."

I exhaled slowly. Man, did I miss breathing.

"Daniel."

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Buffyverse. All that belongs to Joss...but he was raised well and lets other kids play with his toys. Cookies to Joss! Theresa and her lil story belong to the erstwhile plot bunny Hubert. I'm basically a glorified typewriter.**

**A/N: Much thanks and love for following along thus far. Cookies go to all who reviewed (yay!) and J. for Betaing this chappie. And remember folks, I will do anything for reviews. :-) Drive safely and don't forget to tip the waitress.**


	4. Words

I rose to my feet. Old training taking over, I guess. Seventh Rule of Slaying - It's better to meet anything while standing. If it's bad, at least you're in the position to run for it.

"You remember me?" Placing the book on the desk, Rupert absently removed his glasses and began cleaning the right lense on his ever-present hanky.

"It's the eyes." I said nervously. "They're the last thing I saw before...well, before."

"Right." He moved on to the left lense.

"I must admit, though, I had completely forgotten your real name. You were always just Daniel to me." Now I was crossing and uncrossing my arms in a futile attempt to look casual. Right. Just casually talking to the love of my life, who had moved on with his for almost thirty years while he thought I was dead and I was taking a vamp power nap. No foreseeable tension here.

"Yes, well then." Rupert replaced his glasses, picked the book back up, and began fidgeting with the worn pages. "It was a childish attempt to leave my destiny behind. The first of many, I'm afraid."

"Yeah. Well. Glad we had this talk. Now, do you want me to take the couch or..."

The Watcher slammed the book back onto the table. I jumped a mile.

"Ok, you want the couch. No need to get testy." Please, heavens above, let me change the topic.

Rupert closed the distance between us in two long strides. Grabbing my upper arms, he cut off my chances of easy escape. I could have crushed his skull with my bare hands. However, given my trembling and my massive emotional upheaval, he currently had the upper hand.

"Why?" He rasped. Desperate. Terrified. Angry. Hurt. Torn. All these things flitted across his eyes. All these things were mirrored in mine.

Leave it to him to ask the one question I'd been avoiding since I awakened. Oh God. Why? I could have borne anything else. Torture, death, pain, a terrible battle, a desperate stand - all these were what I was prepared for. They came with the job. This mind-numbing grief, the rippingtwistingrending of my soul, the desperate, sour longing - how was I supposed to cope? I loved him. Yet, because of this love, I had to walk away from what I'd die for. Because it'd be easy to die for Rupert Giles, simple to make grand gestures and last stands. No, the hardest thing I was going to have to do was live for him, live for what was best for the man I loved. And I wasn't it. Being with me was something that would eventually destroy him. No matter how good my soul was, a demon lurked inside.

"Because, Rupert. Because I am...I was...the Slayer. Slayers don't get happy endings." I turned away, tears stinging my eyes. What do you know? Vampires can cry.

He began again, looking lost. "Tessa."

I rounded on him, fists clenched, teeth gritted. "What? What more could you possibly want? I'm a vampire. You're a human. You've been living for twenty-seven years while I've been in the ground. You have a life here, Rupert! A family. People who love you. I have to save the world. Period. We're just people who knew each other a long time ago." Now the tears were pouring down my face. I couldn't stop them. Part of me didn't want to.

Giles stepped towards me. He made as if to wrap his arms around me, something that Daniel wouldn't have hesitated to do all those years ago; but he stopped himself short. He settled for a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"Believe me, I fully understand where we are now. What I need to understand is why you gave up. Why you stopped fighting. We might have gotten out of there! We could...we could have won."

Mutely shaking my head, I continued staring at the floor. He still didn't get it, and I desperately wanted him to save me from saying it.

My silence seemed to break more of his stodgy British restraint. The uncensored words exploded off his lips.

"You were the Slayer for heaven's sake! Why didn't you just destroy him?"

I raised my head, cutting him off. "I _tried _to kill Laalym. I wanted to save your life. I had killed everyone else." Moving away, I allowed myself to miss the weight of his hand.

"You didn't kill them!"

"You said it yourself! I was the Slayer! They were my responsibility. I failed."

"Please, Tessa. Talk to me. I know you. Please, let me help you again." An endless pause stretched onward. Rupert was struggling within himself, his conflict demonstrated in his eyes. Finally, he stepped towards me.

"I loved you."

Silence followed. His words hung in the air, choking.

"Please." His voice begged, his eyes tortured me. I was mute.

He sighed. Running a hand through his hair, he stepped back. "Well then. I can't very well force you to feel as I do. And I won't force you to speak with me."

If only I could have told him. If only I could have spoken those words we both were yearning to hear. My moment came and I missed it. I let it go. Silence stretched on.

He came close to me once again. He removed his glasses and looked into my eyes. For a moment nothing had changed. He was my Daniel. We were in love. For a breath of eternity I believed that love really did conquer all, that I would return from my battle to a man who could fall in love with me again. For that second, my heart beat again.

Then, like sand, the moment slipped into the past. And I was thrust painfully back into my present reality.

"Goodnight, Tessa." Rupert's whisper of a smile was the only indication anything had passed between us. He made his way up the stairs. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with a sense of profound loss.

Goodnight, my love.

**Disclaimer: I own not a thing. Rupert Giles belongs to Joss - though many would argue that something that spectacular should belong to everyone. Anywho, Tessa's leash is held by a fat poka-dotted plot bunny called Hubert. Hubert enjoys Martinis, socks, peanut butter M&Ms, and long walks by the beach. My primary function is yet to be determined.**

**A/N: First, passing out big wet smoochies to all who have reviewed. Love 'em, keep 'em coming, tell your friends. Secondly, gold star to J. for beta reading the newest installment. And finally - you all know the drill - Snoopy dances and cookies to all who review. :-)**


	5. Slayers

As awkward situations go, this one was pretty bad.

I was stretched out on the couch, wishing for Morpheus to grant me blessed sleep; praying that in dreams I might find a flicker of happiness, a reason for going onward. I sought to focus on my higher purpose, my eventual mission.

Damn the mission. I wanted Rupert.

So, here I was. Covered with an afghan that smelled of his cologne, straining to hear his soft breathing, eyes clamped shut, and desperately wanting the last few hours back. How could I ever face him again?

Rupert Giles. In my mind, he would always be Daniel. How desperate his eyes had been. How cruel I must have seemed. Yet I could not give him what we both craved. Hope could not visit a Child of Hunger. Vampires don't get happily-ever-afters.

After a few more minutes of unconvincing play acting, I threw the cover aside. The King of Dreams would not visit me that night. Dawn was still a few hours off, father Night's dusky array of stars were slowly waning. It was the witching hour.

Eighth Rule of Slaying - Always have something on had to relieve the boredom. The big brouhaha rarely happens when you're ready and waiting. I reached down to grab my journal and my hand brushed air.

"Hmm," I said. "Obviously Spike didn't think to go get my journal before he carried my lifeless body here. How insensitive."

I wasn't too upset about the mystery of the missing journal. It would give me an excuse to leave, and a walk through a dark, demon infested hell-mouth was just the thing I needed to give me focus.

"To leave a note, or not to leave a note?" I picked up a pad of paper and a pen, and even started writing a note before I threw the writing instruments across the room with a growl of frustration and stalked out the door.

He wasn't my bloody father.

As I started down the deserted street, I began to whistle.

"Who knows," I said to myself, "maybe I'll run into something big and hairy."

Life was looking up.

---

Ninth Rule of Slaying - Be careful what you wish for. Because someone up there is probably listening.

No sooner had I gotten out of Rupert's quaint subdivision than something big and hairy ran into me. Actually, several somethings. And they obviously hadn't taken a course on personal hygiene.

I grabbed Mr. BigNhairy and introduced it's nose-like-orifice to my hard-like-knee. Mr. BigNhairy did not appreciate this and let out a honk of anger. That's right, a honk. I couldn't help laughing.

"Somehow, I'm not intimidated," I told him.

On to-do-list: learn to speak BigNhairy-ese. Because no sooner than I had quipped my witticism, Mr. BigNhairy's posse decided to forgo the customary 'attack the stranger one at a time' and rush me.

Tenth Rule of Slaying - Don't mock before you kill. Also known as 'Pride cometh before a bruising'. Boy did I wish I listened to myself once in a while.

Whirling around, I delivered a kick to one demon's head while punching another in the gut. Hit, kick, duck, turn, parry, thrust, retreat. Fighting wildly, I was nonetheless being pushed backwards.

I hit one of my attackers with a swift uppercut. My elation was short lived, however, because on my next forced step back I struck a wall.

On to-do-list: Get eyes in the back of my head. That would avoid perilous situations like this. Also, it would be a lot easier to back out of parking spaces.

So, between big hairy demon horde and a brick wall. Not good.

Suddenly, from the other side of my self-built wall o' demons, a disturbance started clearing a path towards me. Buffy Summers, Vampire Slayer, was knocking out these demons like it was child's play. I joined in with a vengeance.

Soon my dangerous situation was reduced to the scattered remains of some stinky demons. Buffy was standing on the re-deserted street in a relaxed fighting stance. I approached her cautiously.

"Uh, thanks," I said. Boy, with people skills like that, it's a surprise I'm not more popular.

She turned and looked at me. I hate to admit it, but I cringed a bit inside. The other two times we had run into each other, she had glared at me while fondling a stake. Not a friendly reception for a vampire; and I could hardly expect anything different this time.

"Ok," she said.

"I'm sorry?" Alright, I was confused. Where was the hate? The mistrust? The desire to dust?

Buffy smiled. "I said, ok. You're welcome. No problem."

"Oh. Well, right. Of course." I ventured a smile in return.

Buffy started to walk towards town. I followed alongside her, not out of any masochistic desire for rejection. She was just walking the same direction I needed to go.

"So, how's the slaying thing working for you?" I ventured.

"Well," she looked at me strangely, "generally I just go out and kill things. So, I guess it's a great stress reliever."

"Right,"

"Look, don't think that we're all buddy-buddy now." Buffy said. "Just 'cause I saved your life."

Ok, I could give her that. "I know."

We went forward few moments in silence. I couldn't help but be captivated by the way she walked. I could tell she had seen much - no slayer past her first month hadn't. Yet she seemed strangely innocent, optimistic in spite of all she must have endured. She strode forward lightly, as one who had conquered all she had faced and expected this trend to continue.

I wanted to weep for her. In spite of everything, she still believed that she could live a normal life.

Passing a graveyard, I noticed a sudden flurry of motion behind a crypt. Still in battle mode, I sprinted lightly across the grass and hopped the short fence. A few more long strides brought me to a gruesome scene.

A girl was laying on the ground, her head stretched to one side, her hair cascading around her in dark waves. Her face was strangely peaceful, as if her soul had glimpsed something wonderful through the red haze of her death.

The odor of human blood newly spilled filled the air. Kneeling cautiously, I gently held the girl's hand and felt for a pulse, though I knew that there was no more natural life left in the body. Two perfect circles marred the long neck. The movement I had seen must have been the murderer making good his escape.

Once more I was too late. Once more I had lost focus, and someone had died because of it. This girl - she couldn't be more than fifteen. And I had failed her. To think of the fear she must have felt, the pain. I could still smell the terror, and her attacker's Hunger. This girl represented how many countless others? How many more had I failed?

A monster had done this. A monster like me. This is what I could become in one second of inattention. One mistake.

The center I had been looking for, the purpose I had forgotten became crystal clear in one moment. I knew what I had to do. I had to live the next few days for this girl, and for the other nameless bodies left discarded like so much trash. I had to live for those I had failed: Elizabeth, Jena, Katie, Daniel. I had to live for the man that my Daniel had become.

I was startled back to reality by movement behind me. The girl's hand fell back to the ground.

"Hey, are you ok?" Buffy said. She had found us: the vampire and the body. I half expected a stake in the heart. Dramatic irony almost begged for a melodramatic misunderstanding after my heart wrenching moment of clarity.

"Yeah," I stood quickly, brushing dirt and leaves off my pants. "I stopped to see if I could help her. I couldn't." I gestured vaguely in the direction of a grove of trees. "The vampire got away."

Buffy looked around. "Yeah. There's a million escape routes in this graveyard. It could have gone anywhere."

Suddenly, the last four days came crashing down around my ears. The load of what I was expected to carry became too heavy. Suddenly every emotion I had repressed since my awakening decided to bubble to the surface.

"It's not an it! Sure, it's a monster, but once it was a human, just like you! And something bad happened, like this, and all at once someone who had a family and a past and a future and love and hope is just an _IT_! Just a monster to be chased down and destroyed. And it's _horrible_. It's wrong. And there's not a bloody thing I can do!"

And then I began to weep. Buffy just stood, quietly enduring my ranting. I fell to my knees in surrender to an anguish that tore me apart and burned my soul.

"I can't save them! I can't save her. She's going to wake up, you know. She'll wake up to the Hunger, and it'll drive her mad. All that she once was will now be overshadowed by a blood sucking demon. And I failed her. If I had been faster, or stronger, or _something_, I could have stopped this. I should have saved her."

My sobs were uncontrollable now. But then the most remarkable thing happened. Buffy - the Slayer, Chosen out of a Generation - knelt beside me, a vampire who had a tentative hold on a tattered soul, and wrapped her arms around my neck.

How long we stayed like this, I could not say. I cried for all I had lost and she stroked my hair and murmured comfort in my ear. When I finally pulled away, I felt clean. Finally pure for the first time since my awakening.

"You can't save them all, you know." Buffy said. A sad smile crept along her face. "I know how much it hurts, but it'll kill you if you don't realize that."

"I know. It just...it's who I am. It's what I do...what I did. It still feels like I should."

"Yeah," Buffy sighed, "what good is super-Slayer power if you can't save the world?"

I smiled. "We do save the world - just not everybody, all at once."

"Sometimes I think it'd be easier just to make some grand gesture, some flying sacrifice, and end that way." Buffy said. "I can handle my own death."

"It's them. It's their deaths that keep us awake." I said.

"Yeah."

We sat for a moment; and in that moment we understood. We both knew what would be required of us and we embraced the destiny.

A car backfired across the way and the communion was broken.

I could taste the bittersweet scent of Sunrise, could sense the approaching Light.

"I'll take care of the body," Buffy said, "you better get back to the crypt before dawn."

I nodded. Without a backward glance, I walked towards my cage.

How I longed for the Sun.

---

**Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss. Hail Joss. Tessa belongs to my fat plot bunny, Hubert, who has been plodding along at a dignified pace.**

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Many, many cookies go to J. for beta reading all this gooshyness. Any mistakes are mine alone. Please review! Hubert likes a review with his afternoon tea.**


	6. Bravery

Back at the crypt, loathing the very site of the dusty stone walls, I paced my self-imposed prison. A few hours earlier, all I could think about was getting as far away from Rupert as possible. Now I would have given all I possessed to be back on that worn couch.

I just wanted to talk with him, to tell him everything—all my assumptions and plans—and to discuss with him my future - our future. A simple luxury, one that was more precious than gold.

However, I knew now what I must do. And a long heart-to-unbeating heart with Rupert Giles was not on the agenda.

First I needed the book. Clansen's Demonic Rituals Explained, the little book that had started this all. It held the last piece of information I needed to thwart Laalym's final hope.

Secondly, I needed to do some research. There was a spell I remembered Katie talking about, one that would make my plan possible.

However, since both of these things required me to leave the crypt, I had to postpone my endeavors till the Sun was kind enough to shine elsewhere. My secret plan held no provisions for vampire en flambee.

So, to pass the time, I wrote in my journal. Everything that had passed from last night to this morning was relived in excruciating detail.

My pen paused when I reached the conversation with Rupert. I could recall every word, every gesture. And it burned me just as badly the second time.

The only sound for hours was the scratch of pen on paper.

---

_I must get the book. I must find the spell. I must erase the damage I fear I have done. Most of all, I must not let them fight my fight. Laalym is mine. _

I closed the journal with a sigh. My eyes seemed to weigh a thousand pounds, and my body ached from weariness. Sleep called.

But, of course, my life could not be as I wished it. Just as I had stretched out on a convenient stone tomb, there was a fumbling knock at the door to the crypt.

I froze. Who in the blue blazes could that be? I prayed to all things high and exalted that a wandering vagrant hadn't decided to sleep off his inebriation in this crypt. Drunken visitors were more than I could take at the moment.

The door groaned open. A dark mop-top poked round the frame.

Xander Harris. What the bloody hell was this all about?

"Hello?" He called, as if shouting into a dark cave. "Anybody home?"

"Xander." I rose and moved towards him, wary of the crack of sunlight on the floor.

"Oh. You're here," he said.

"Brilliant deduction. Tell me, do you do much in the line of investigative work? Cause you really have the knack for it." Apparently, tiredness makes me a wee bit cranky as well.

Xander rolled his eyes. "Do you vamps have to take a course in lame quips? Or is it just this town?"

"What do you want, Xander?"

"Well, wandering around in a cemetery and conversing with dead things in a crypt wasn't high on my list, but such is life." He paused, eyes roving around my humble abode. "Geez, talk about minimalist. At least Spike has a TV."

"All the most fashionable crypts these days are focusing less on comfort and more on that dank, decomposing style," I said.

He squelched a smile and handed me a small brown bag. Emblazoned across the front were the words "THE MAGIC BOX." It was quite heavy.

"Oh, Xander, you shouldn't have! And I didn't get you a thing." Opening the sack, I pulled out a thick tome.

Clansen's Demonic Rituals Explained.

"Giles sent me over with it. He..." Xander paused again. "I think he was worried about you."

Fresh guilt exploded in my gut and trickled down my spine. "Yeah. I kind of took off last night."

Xander looked at me, surprised. I tried to explain.

"I wanted to patrol some more, and he was asleep. I was going to leave him a note, but..." I trailed off.

"Whatever," he said. "Look, I'd better get going. What should I tell Giles?"

Tell him I love him. Tell him that we can be together. Tell him that I'm sure there's another way, we'll think of something. Tell him...

"Tell him thanks." I said. Oh, the bitterness of words unsaid.

Xander gave me another funny look. Was there something in my teeth?

"What?" I said.

"Nothing." He turned away, and I headed back to my bed. "It's just that..." He had stopped halfway to the door, and was facing the wall as he spoke. Man, this kid just did not like me.

"What did you do to him?" Xander asked.

"I'm sorry?"

"He looks at you ... differently. And he worries about you. Like when Spike burst into The Magic Box last night with your body, I thought he was going to...I don't know...pass out or something. Why does he care?"

An eternal beat. I was desperately searching for something to say, some way to brush this all off. Xander turned around, moved closer to me - searching my face for something.

"So, what I want to know is...what did you do to him? Is it some sort of spell? Is it a vampire thing? Cause whatever it is," he took a deep breath, moved closer to me, "_whatever_ it is, we'll fight it. I'll fight you."

I couldn't help it. I know I should have taken him seriously, this poor little boy who was looking at me so earnestly, his fingers unconsciously clenching into a fist, ready to fight for his friends. But, it was just so far off the mark, I couldn't restrain myself.

I laughed. Just threw my head back and roared and giggled and guffawed till tears ran down my face.

Xander was taken aback, to say the least. He looked uncertain, not sure if he should attack or run.

When I was finally able to speak again, I smiled gently at the poor confused thing and gestured towards the tomb. "Take a seat, Xander. Don't worry, I'm not going to attack you."

He shuffled his feet a bit, threw his head back defiantly. "I'd rather stand, thanks."

Have to admire his pluck.

"That's fine. Mind if I sit down?" He shook his head, so I perched on the edge of the stone tomb. How much should I tell this little warrior? "Xander, I know you don't like me. I know you don't trust me. I respect that - heck, I understand that. But I assure you, under pain of staking, I didn't do anything to Rupert."

Xander was looking at me dubiously. And I hadn't even gotten to the delicate part yet.

"If he seems concerned about me...well...he just knows that if something happens to me, then Laalym will more than likely come after Buffy. It's in all of your best interests to keep me alive, for now."

He stood there, looking at me. And, heaven love him, I almost blurted out the whole sordid tale of woe right then and there. Something in him inspired confidence and late night gab sessions. Restraint being the better part of valor, however, I managed to keep my story to myself.

"Alright. That makes sense, I suppose." He fixed me with an unwavering stare. "But, if I find out you've done anything to him, I'll stake you myself." With that threat, he turned and left the crypt.

This little slip of a boy had done what few centuries-old demons would dare. He had faced down a vampire Slayer who could have broken him in two, just to protect his friend.

If there were still people like him in the world, then maybe there was a point to saving the sodding thing after all.

---

**Disclaimer: Xander, Spike, Giles, and the Buffyverse belong to Joss Whedon, etc. My fat poka-dotted plot bunny, Hubert, claims that Theresa belongs to him. I just work here.**

**A/N: I hope that Xander turned out well in this chapter. If not, the fault is entirely mine. Thanks to J. for the beta. Enjoy! Many huggles and cookies to those who read. Hot coca to the reviewers. Hubert does love those reviews.**


	7. Help

After Xander Harris had left my tomb, I paced the floor. Planning and plotting, running through this scenario and that eventuality, trying to second guess fate.

Finally, I dozed. Tossing and turning, I dreamed feverish nightmares of blood and snow.

The faint sound of a mouse searching for crumbs awoke me hours later. The crack of light around the door was gleaming red. Sunset was in its prime.

I rose and stretched. Note to self: stone is surprisingly uncomfortable. There may be something to these rumors of sleeping pads of soft material.

I reached for my journal. A piece of paper perched on top of the cover fluttered to the floor. I picked it up and scanned the contents. If my heart had a chance of beating before, it was out of luck now.

_Tessa - _

_I hope you'll find what you're looking for. There will be provisions for you at The Magic Box this evening. _

_I'll be at home. Alone. _

_If you wish to talk anything through or tell me any of your plans, you may find me there. _

Please.

_R. Giles

* * *

_

It burned me, the ray of sun striking my cheek. It brought a tear to my eye. I welcomed the pain, because the pain helped to block out the troublesome thoughts that insisted on crowding my brain.

He had been there. In my crypt. He had watched me sleep.

Trying quite unsuccessfully to stay in the shadows and away from the last dancing shreds of daylight, I pulled out the note and read it for the hundredth time. Searching its pen strokes as if they held the meaning to my existence.

Perhaps they did.

Night was seducing the sun, her rays were still demurely clutching at the vestiges of day. When at last the sun relinquished it's hold on the earth, and blessed dankness fell, I raced the final few steps to The Magic Box, lurching through the door like a drunken crusader on his last charge.

The bell jingled merrily, announcing my arrival - Here comes the crazed vampire, tentatively holding onto her sanity! Aren't her shoes so last season?

Anya peered up at me from behind the counter, her interest waning when she recognized me.

"Oh it's you. I thought you were a customer. Here to spend money."

I gave a short laugh. Hunger and Desperation were trying to rip my eyes from my sockets and use them as golf balls, and Anya wanted me to spend money.

"Sorry. They don't tend to bury people with loads of cash" I said.

"Giles left this for you." She held out a bag. Even from ten feet away, my nostrils twitched at the scent of cow's blood.

"Thanks." I strode across the room and ripped it from her hands. Greedily, I sank my fangs into a container of lukewarm blood.

"Ew!" A voice from across the room broke through my blood haze. "That is so gross. At least Spike puts his in a cup first."

I took the empty bag from my mouth and licked the vestiges of blood from my lips. Dawn sat at a table in the center of the room, books spread out around her.

"Were you really that hungry?" Dawn asked.

I nodded slowly, the room gradually coming into focus. I hadn't realized how famished I'd become. How swiftly I could lose control.

"Yes. Yes. I'm sorry. I - I'm usually not like that." I forced the demon back and felt the ridges above my eyes smooth out.

Dawn shrugged. "Giles said you probably hadn't eaten in a while. I've just never seen a vamp attack blood like that before."

I couldn't help but grin. "Sheltered life, eh?"

"You have no idea."

The smile lingering, I turned to Anya. "Sorry about that. I promise, I'm usually much more polite."

The ex-demon cocked her head. "Do you find Xander attractive?"

I spluttered for a moment, trying desperately to find the thread of conversation that I must have missed.

"Excuse me?" I said. "I...that is I've never -"

A giggle from Dawn interrupted my babbling. "She knows that Xander went to your crypt this morning. She thinks that you must have jumped him."

"Well," Anya said, "what else are two people of the opposite sex going to do in an empty room?"

I went from confused to befuddled in record time. "You think that I had _sex_ with Xander simply because we were alone in my crypt for ten minutes this morning?"

"Did you?" Anya asked.

"No!"

"Why not? Don't you find him attractive?"

This girl was wigging me out. "Um, Anya? Exactly what kind of demon were you?"

"Vengeance."

"Ah." That explained so much. "Old habits die hard, I imagine."

I sat down at the table and began to idly flip through the pages of a dusty tome.

"So, what are you two up to?"

Dawn gave an angry sigh and Anya rolled her eyes.

"Did I strike a nerve?" I asked.

"Well, I am researching. Dawn is doing her homework." Anya supplied.

"Would you rather be reading about," I picked up the nearest book, "Urick the Ugly and his fondness for human babies?"

Dawn crossed her arms and frowned at the table. "No. It's just that I never get to go out and help."

"Help with what? You're, what, thirteen?"

"I'm fourteen, thank you very much! And I can help with a lot of stuff."

"I'm sure you could, Dawn. But trust me, ignorance is sleep with less nightmares. Take the non-lethal jobs while you can. You'll be out in the blood and the fracas soon enough." I smiled at her, wishing desperately that I could trade places with her for a few blissful hours. Oh, to be young and uncalled.

"She's right. Why, I remember back in the 1400s there was this Duke-" Anya was off and running. All demons are the same. Give them an opening, and they'll regale you with tales of the 'good ole days' for hours.

I lost interest after the first sentence and allowed my eyes to wander the room, drinking in the space where Rupert spent so much of his time. His essence was everywhere. The books arranged just so, the overstock of crystals, the faint smell of old parchment and tea - he loved it here. It must be his oasis, a place where he felt in control, where everything he needed was at his fingertips.

While Anya continued explaining exactly how she had eviscerated the poor Duke at a dinner party, I climbed the ladder to the upper level. If I owned such a shop, I would keep the more dangerous magicks away from the sticky-fingered kiddies.

"Bingo." I whispered, running my finger along the spines of ancient Spell Books. Even I, with virtually no magic experience, could sense the power in these volumes.

My fingers stopped when they reached the words _Alieno Totus._

_Forget All._

It was a tome of Forgetting Spells. What people rarely realized was that a widespread memory-altering charm was fairly simple to perform. What got tricky was manipulating specific memories in specific people, while leaving others intact.

Luckily, that wasn't what I needed to do.

I glanced over the table of contents. The whole thing was in Latin. If I knew Rupert, though, there would be an English to Latin translating dictionary around the shop somewhere. Though the actual words of the spell would have to be said in the original language, the dictionary would help me find the right spell and ingredients.

"Hey, Dawn?" I hollered.

"Yeah?" Dawn said.

"I'm going to need some help with this..."

Amazingly enough, she was more than willing to abandon Anya's gory reenactments and her Math homework.

We dug through books and found the correct dictionary. Dawn showed quite an aptitude for ancient languages that made my task much easier. As I called out Latin words, she looked them up, and I began compiling a list. Soon Anya became frustrated with the lack of customers and came over to join us. She worked through her 'Giles Reading List' while Dawn and I continued translating.

"Facio vestri ut nusquam." I said.

"Hm." Dawn was flipping through pages. "I think it means...to make nothing of, wait, no. To make_ me_ as nothing. Or something like that."

I scanned the ingredients. Luckily, there were pictures. I only needed some sort of flower, the obligatory candles and binding sand, and the words.

_Vestri memoria mei _

_Est tantum of poena _

_EGO precor is absentis _

_Per incendia of meus alica _

_Pacis rursus._

Perfect.

I looked up to find Dawn staring at me.

"Uh, do you need anything else translated? 'Cause I'm a translating fool!" She smiled at me and waved the dictionary in the air.

"Er, no. Nothing right now. But I'm going to need to take it with me. And this book."

"I don't know if Giles would want you to take that. That's one of his 'personal collection'." Anya frowned. "In fact, I don't know if he would even want you looking at it."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said. "I thought Rupert said that I could pick up the supplies I needed here."

"Well, you can. I mean, he said you could. And he owns the shop. So yes. Please, take the book. And anything else you need. Without paying." With a false smile, Anya marched into the back room.

"Can you translate one more thing for me?" I asked Dawn.

Her face brightened. "Sure!"

I ran my finger down the ingredient list. "What is 'mectabilis bramble'?"

As she rifled through the dictionary, I snagged a bag from behind the cash register and collected eight candles - one for each memory - and a bottle of binding sand.

"Ok, got it. It literally means 'deadly bramble'. But for a spell, you'd use something called Lethe's Bramble." She beamed at me, very pleased with her translation work.

"Excellent Dawn!" I said as I searched the shelves. "And here it is. Lethe's Bramble." I grabbed several of the small florets. "That should do it."

"So, is this going to help? Defeat Laalym, I mean."

I smiled sadly. "Yeah. Yeah, I think it's going to work well."

"Cool."

I hoped so.

I went back to the table and added the book and dictionary to my shopping bag.

"Thanks for the help Dawn."

"Hey, no problem. That's me, the helper." She cringed. "Wow, that was lame."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Yeah, but lame in a 'too cool to be cool' kind of way."

She grinned.

As I turned to leave, Dawn jumped up.

"Hey, Theresa?"

"Yes?"

"I - I just wanted to say how cool this was. The translating thing. I mean, sometimes I feel like I'm..." She trailed off and waved her hand in the air helplessly.

"In the way?" I said.

"Kinda."

"Yeah. I get that. But cut your sister some slack. She's - well, it's always hard to deal with putting people we love in danger. And you're her family, you know? So she feels doubly responsible."

Dawn looked down, troubled. Again I was struck by how...odd she felt to me. Like something was just a little bit off of normal.

"Buffy is trying, Dawn. And she loves you. That counts for a lot more than you think." I tried a smile. "Once this whole thing she's dealing with is over, I'm sure stuff will get better."

Dawn looked at me, then shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Yeah."

The trouble with this whole scenario was that I knew, better than anyone, that Slayers didn't get _normal_. I was telling Dawn patronizing glib-ness, and she knew it. But it was better than saying 'Hey, your sister will probably be dead soon, so stop whining!'. So we left it.

"How-how's your journal going?" Dawn said, obviously trying not to end on an awkward note.

On the first day, during my first meeting with the Scoobies, Dawn and I had talked a bit while the rest researched and I waited for Spike to point me towards a likely crypt. She had been writing in her diary, and suggested I start one of my own. She told me it helped with the 'head-noises'.

I had told her that undead demons did not write _diaries_, soul or no soul. So I adopted my Journal. Much more adult.

"Good," I said. "You're right. It helps."

"Well, good then." Dawn rocked back and forth, fidgeting. I could tell that she was on the verge of telling me something, probably something she knew she shouldn't tell. Suddenly I was desperate to be out of there. My head was bursting with the secrets I had to keep for myself. I honestly didn't think I could keep hers as well.

Besides, it was better I didn't linger too long with any of them. Not now.

"I'd better get going Dawn. I have a lot to do and only so long till the sun. Are you going to be okay here with Anya?"

She looked vaguely disappointed. "Yeah, sure. No problem."

"Alright then." I held her gaze for a moment. If only I had something to offer her. Somehow, I felt that she'd need it. "Good night Dawn."

"Good night."

I turned then and walked through the doorway.

My resolve was only strong enough to get myself through the next two days. I had nothing to spare for little girls who were not quite what they seemed.

I was going hunting.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns Anya, Dawn, The Magic Box, Rupert Giles, Buffy, and a sturdy pair of socks. Hubert the Plot Bunny claims ownership of Theresa. I own the misspellings.**

**Thanks and Fuzzy Thoughts To: J. for the Beta. Google for the Latin. And to you, gentle reader, for sticking with me.**

**A/N: After a bit of a break, where Anya-speak thoroughly kicked my shins, we've returned. Hope you like it. Any mistakes are, once again, mine alone. And don't forget to leave a review at the door!**


	8. Goodbye

The vampire let out an odd squeak as he slammed head first through plaster.

"You're lucky that wasn't a load bearing wall," I said, "or we might be in real trouble."

The vampire only glared at me through swollen eyes. Two hours as my own personal punching bag and he still was playing the mime. I guess my people skills had gotten rusty, what with the being dead and all.

"Ok, let's talk turkey." I kicked him to his knees. "I want to know some things. You know the things that I want to know. So if you tell me the things that you know then I'll know them, and I won't use your fangs to sharpen my knife, you know?"

He turned his yellow eyes on me, opened his mouth, and spat in my face.

"I'm not telling you anything, worthless excuse for a vampire," he grinned. "Kill me if you like, but my Master's secrets are safe with me."

Suddenly this game wasn't so much fun anymore. Carefully, oh so deliberately, I raised my arm and wiped the spittle off my face.

I wasn't just a wise-cracking vamp. I was a Slayer. A pissed off Slayer with a bunch of sharp objects and nothing better to do.

A slow smile spread across my face.

"Who said anything about killing?"

* * *

Scarcely an hour passed before I had the information I needed. I cleaned up my mess, wiped the dust from my clothes, and strode out into the night.

Almost ready.

One piece to my hellish puzzle was yet needed. One piece and one conversation. Then I could rest.

Then I could sleep.

Luckily, both things would be found in the same place.

* * *

Day was breaking, teasing the horizon with fingers of gold, as I reached Rupert's house. Slipping inside I quietly made my way to the couch.

I put my bag of supplies on the table and stretched out on the couch.

"_Torture is hard,"_ I thought as I slipped off to sleep.

I was awakened by a gasp and a round of good old-fashioned British swearing.

"Morning Rupert," I yawned.

"Dear Lord!" Rupert was wearing blue plaid pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt. His hair was rumpled and his glasses askew.

God, I loved him.

"Tessa," he said, "what are you doing here? I mean - I waited for you last night. I didn't think you were - I thought you - " He sat on the arm of the couch and ran his hands through his hair. "Dear Lord."

"I'm sorry," I said, trying to meet his eyes, trying to read his mood. "I had to get some information. The - process took longer than anticipated."

"Ah." He looked at me for a long moment, then shook his head. "I need tea."

Not the reaction I was looking for.

"What?"

"Tea. It's early, you're in my house, I didn't sleep much last night, and before we talk I need some tea." Rupert made to stand up, but I laid my hand on his arm. We both jumped as if burned.

"Let me," I said. "You don't know how I like mine." Turning, I walked towards the kitchen.

"Three sugars and a lemon," Rupert said softly. I froze.

It's silly, really, the things that can break me. I was a Slayer. My entire existence had been focused on killing things most people don't believe in. I was trained in combat, I watched my friends and family die around me. My first blood as a vampire came from the neck of my best friend. After dying a horrible death, I spent twenty seven years in the ground before clawing my way out of my grave. Three hours of my undead life had just been spent torturing a fellow vampire for information that will lead to my third death.

Yet I stood in the doorway of Rupert's kitchen fighting back tears over tea.

"How could you think - how could you imagine I would forget?" Rupert was standing behind me now, his voice a rough whisper.

"I was gone for a very long time, Rupert," I said quietly. "I'm surprised you can remember my name."

He was silent for a moment, and I took that opportunity to restore some distance. Note to self: Air and a heartbeat aren't necessary for stomach butterflies.

"Tessa..." he started. I held up my hand to cut him off.

"Tea first." I avoided his eyes. "You shower and such, I'll brew a pot of tea, and then..."

Then we would proceed to rip the scars off.

Rupert studied me, eyes begging for something I didn't understand, then he gave a quick nod and moved towards the stairs.

With a sigh of relief I walked into the kitchen and began the tea making process. A quick glance towards the steps revealed Rupert standing there with a half-smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

"What?" I waved the teapot in the air. "Afraid I'm going to make tea like an American?"

"No," he smiled, ducking his head. "I was just wondering...do you still remember..."

"Cream, no sugar." I turned quickly away. "Now go on, you stuffy Brit. Or I'll make coffee instead."

Rupert's laugh echoed in my head. If I could bottle that sound, keep it hidden in my heart for eternity, then I think I could endure anything.

"Right," I said to myself as I wiped away a stray tear, "tea it is."

* * *

Sometimes life gives us something. Sometimes, often when we aren't expecting it, we get a taste of perfection. A touch of the divine.

That morning, sitting across the table from Rupert, laughing at his jokes, talking about nothing important, was like a dream. An unblemished moment. Something so wonderful, so utterly normal, it makes you a little sad - because you know, even while you're relishing it, that it can't last. That the next breath, the next second, it will disappear like a whisper in a snowstorm.

And the crushing reality of your real life, of your fate, will take you over.

But for that instant, that heartbeat, you are happy. You have everything.

I don't know why I was given that moment. I didn't deserve it. I didn't anticipate it. But I treasured it. All the grief, the pain, the strife, the dying - if it all was for this, then maybe, just maybe, it was worth it.

The tea was drunk, the cups washed, the sun was moving ever higher in the sky and our time was running out. By some unspoken agreement, we had taken the precious few hours given to us - no talk of monsters or destinies or battle plans. Just us.

Now it was time for another talk.

We moved into the living room. The bag of supplies I had left on the table served a stark reminder of my plan, of what I must do now.

An awkward silence fell as we settled in. Neither one of us wanted to start this. Finally Rupert spoke up.

"The information - did you get what you needed?"

"Yes," I said. "It wasn't easy, but yes. I know when Laalym is planning on performing the ceremony."

He blanched. "When?" His hands were shaking.

"Tomorrow night. There's a warehouse outside of town," I spoke quickly, imparting my hard-won knowledge in a rush of words. "He and his followers will be there tomorrow, after sundown."

"Do - do you know? What you're going to do, what you need?"

I nodded. "There's something you can help me with, in fact."

"Anything."

"I need a weapon." Before the sentence was even complete, Rupert had leapt to his feet and was rummaging in an old trunk.

"What do you need?" He stood up, holding an armful of battleaxes, crossbows, and stakes. "I have quite a wide selection." A rueful laugh escaped his lips. "After all, what's a Watcher without weapons?"

I crossed over to him, gently taking the assorted weapons out of his arms and returning them to the trunk.

"Do you have a sword?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "I have several."

Moving that close to him had been a mistake. "Good," I said absently, "that's good."

His hand found my face, his eyes searched mine in wonderment. "Do you have any idea how much I've missed you?"

I took in a sharp breath. "Rupert, I - "

"After - the night - " he faltered.

"I died."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I failed you."

Really, I don't know what I had expected him to say when we finally got around to talking about this. He had already expressed his pain and disappointment. But guilt?

For the second time, I moved away from his touch. "What are you talking about? We've done this, Rupert. I was the Slayer. It was my job, my calling. If anyone failed, it was me."

"Tessa, listen - "

"No," I turned away. I couldn't do this. All my mental preparation, all my planning, and when the moment came, I froze. It was too much, and, in the end, I wasn't brave enough. So I changed the subject. "About that sword."

The Watcher spun me around, forcing my chin up so our gazes clashed. "Do you think you're the only one who feels? The only one who is grieving over something lost that night? Can you honestly stand there thinking you're the only one who was affected by Laalym?"

"I died!"

"I lost everything!"

We stood there, glaring. Then Rupert sighed, throwing up his hands in frustration.

"I lost you," he whispered. "I couldn't do anything. I just watched you die. Then I had to wake up the next morning. And the next. And the next. I had to breathe in and out, had to go about my life knowing you were gone."

He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "You have no idea what I've done to try to forget you."

Choking back tears, I moved towards him. This time it was he who moved away from my touch.

"Tell me," I begged.

"I ran away." He was pacing now, gesturing with the hand that still held his glasses. "From my family, my education, my calling. I left it all behind. After all, what was the point? We researched, we trained, we fought - and still, you died. Still, the Slayers died. What was the bloody good of it all?"

Rupert stood in front of me, not letting me run away, not letting me hide. "It took another person I cared about dying because of my stupidity, my rank arrogance, for me to realize that the fight was all we had. The research, the training - they were the only weapons we had been given. The evil - the evil is always so great."

He moved closer to me. I could feel his heart beating, taste his scent, hear his breath against my cheek.

"I tried running away from you. From your memory. Now, for the past four years, I've embraced everything you stood for. And still you die."

"I don't understand."

"Every night, in my dreams," he said. "I relive that moment."

"Oh, Rupert." I reached out, my hand found his cheek.

"Every night I watch you die again. And Laalym laughs at me over your body. Because I failed you."

"How?" I forced him to meet my eyes. "How in the world did you fail me?"

"I never told you." Tears are streaming down his face now, running over my hand. "I didn't fight for the chance."

"What didn't you tell me?"

"I love you."

With a strangled sob, I pulled away, trying desperately to keep my wits about me.

"Tessa!"

"Stop it, Rupert," I said. "What do you think you're playing at?"

"What do you want from me?" His tears were gone now. He was angry. Good. Anger I could deal with.

"I want a sword. I want you to point me towards a priest who does night duty. And I want to get some sleep." I started ransacking the weapons trunk, looking for a likely candidate for a Blessed Sword of Destruction.

"So I'm just the supply man? Is that all I mean to you? All that I said, that was just an intermission in your pity-fest?"

"You don't see! You can never see. I am - something evil. Something dark. A monster."

"You're good - "

"No," I cut him off. "I appear good. My shiny outside wrappings fool you. It's not what's on the outside that matters. It's the core." I drew a shuddering breath. "My core is rotten."

"You have a soul."

"I have a leash. But someday my demon is going to break free."

"Tessa, that doesn't matter - it doesn't change...I love you."

I whirled around, holding a sword. I pointed it at his neck. One move, the slightest twitch of my hand, and his head would be severely lacking a body.

"The girl you loved is dead. I'm just using her body." I lowered the sword. "Don't ever forget that."

I walked over to the supply bag and set the sword down next to it. All I needed now was the sun to set.

"So, that's it then?" Rupert made as if to reach out to me again, then lowered his arm. "This is how it ends?"

"It has to be." I was begging him for understanding, praying that he could see the futility of our hopes. "This isn't something I can just...get over. And I can't do...what needs to be done if you don't understand that."

"Then why come back here tonight?" His voice broke.

I turned my face away. "Because I am selfish. I wanted to see you again."

"And now you've seen me, so you're just going to leave?"

Silent tears were coursing down my cheeks. I couldn't let him see this, couldn't admit this weakness. So I nodded, a quick jerk of my head.

"Like hell you are," Rupert said. "I lost you once because I didn't fight for you. Do you honestly think I'm going to let you walk away from me again?"

"What do you want from _me_, Rupert? A happy ending?" I gave a desperate laugh. "I'm going to die again."

He took a deep breath. "No."

Now I turned to him, now I let him see my anguish. If this is what it took, if this is another thing I must endure to make him see, to let him go - then so be it.

"Yes, Rupert. I will go, I will die. And...and I'm not strong enough..." I trailed off as I searched his face.

His hand grasped mine. "Then let me help you. Let me face Laalym."

"Laalym isn't what I fear," I said. "I'm not strong enough to lose you again. I'm not strong enough to watch you as I die, to love you hopelessly. I can't do this. I'm sorry, Rupert." I tore my hand away. "I'm so sorry."

He stood there for a moment, lost in his head. Then the boy, my sweet Daniel, disappeared into the Watcher. He replaced his glasses and gave me a swift nod.

"Yes. I see that." He gestured to the couch. "Feel free to sleep, if that is what you require. I have - business to attend to."

The coldness in his voice broke my heart. I had to remind myself that this was necessary to keep from throwing myself into his arms.

I moved towards the couch, taking an afghan from the chair. I would drown my grief in a dreamless sleep. Perhaps, for a few hours, the ache in my soul would diminish.

I could hear Rupert preparing to leave. And I couldn't let him go, not like this.

"Wait," I whispered. Turning, I saw his hand on the door, his jaw clenched. "Wait."

"What is it?" He sounded so lost, so frightened of my answer, that I couldn't stop myself from going to him. One last time I met his eyes, one final time I touched his face, brushed back his hair.

"You have to know...you have to understand," I whispered fiercely, "I love you, Rupert Giles. More than anything. I love you more than my life itself."

We stood there for an eternity, lost in each other's gaze. I memorized his face, crushing the picture to my heart.

Finally he broke the contact, turning towards the door. Then, before I could move, he turned back to me and pressed his lips tenderly to my forehead.

Then he left, walking out the door into the blazing sun.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** **Rupert Giles and the Buffy-verse belong to Joss. Theresa belongs to my plot bunny, Hubert. He has poka-dots and a fondness for socks.**

**A/N: Thanks and huggles go to Mermaidrain for helping me with this chapter. Any mistakes are mine alone. I hope you enjoy it. And remember, gentle readers: Reviews make the world go round.**


	9. Light

I slept. Blessed sleep, dreamless sleep. The sleep of the dammed.

When I woke, the sun was turning a violent red. Wrapping the afghan around me I watched my final sunset creep along the floor of Rupert's house.

His deserted house.

He hadn't come back. He wasn't going to come back. I had seen him for the last time, and the knowledge was like a fist around my throat. Like a bruise on my soul.

My beloved was gone.

All that was left was the battle.

The light was finally covered in silky blackness. Hefting the sword the Rupert had given me, I grabbed my bag of supplies and walked out the door.

Everything was as it had been before I arrived. Nothing out of place, no tell-tale bags of blood in the fridge, no dirty dishes in the sink. You couldn't even tell someone had been there.

That was the point.

Striding out into the night, I didn't look back. I couldn't. One can only take so much emotional drama before they curl up in a corner and have to be force fed chocolate.

I pointed myself towards town. Perhaps there was a late-night parish that wouldn't be opposed to blessing my sword. As long as nobody got too free and friendly with their cross and holy water, this should be a quick errand.

* * *

Eleventh rule of Slaying - Nothing is ever as easy as it should be. The little wise guy in the corner will, inevitably, be the hardest to kill.

So, come to find out, Sunnydale is absolutely _lousy_ with churches. Trouble is, most are empty. Guess the Hellmouth isn't good for business.

I finally found a tiny church near the center of town that had a few lights on in back. And heavy duty bars on the windows.

Didn't see that back in my day.

After knocking for a good twenty minutes, a scared looking guy in priest's garb opened the door.

"May I help you?" He only stammered a few times, so I had to give him credit. Anyone cruising the streets of this town after dark carrying a big-ass sword probably wasn't selling Girl Scout cookies.

"I hope so," I smiled, and held the sword handle out towards him. "I need some help with this."

"Oh," the priest squeaked, "we're pacifists. We don't exactly do weapons here. So sorry, but have a good night!" He tried to slam the door shut, but I was quicker. With a swift turn I was past him and inside the church.

Taking great care to avoid any basins of water or holy symbols in general, I moved towards the alter at the front of the sanctuary. The priest followed after me, making spluttering noises of protest.

"Listen," whirling around, I pointed the business end of the sword at the man, "I don't want to hurt you. But I will. I need your help and I don't have a lot of time left."

His eyes were darting around and his mouth forming soundless prayers. Great beads of sweat were dripping down his face, his knees knocking in panic.

What had I become?

"Do you know what I am?" The whispered question was out before I had thought it.

The priest hesitated, his eyes tracking the sword inches from his neck. He nodded.

"You're," he licked his lips, "you're a vampire. One of the cursed."

"Evil?"

"Yes," he said. "Soulless. You fear God's holy things because all that is given to man to respond to such has been stripped from you."

I moved close to him. His eyes focused on mine. I could feel his panic. But underneath was...

Peace. He feared the pain, but only that. I could do nothing to him that he was not equipped to endure.

For an endless moment we stood face to face. The sword hung limply from my hand, all but forgotten. The priest's eyes searched mine, looking for a monster; I searched his, wondering if he could see.

"Do you," I rasped, "know what I am?"

The priest took a step back, a shuddering breath. He passed his hand over his eyes.

"No," he said finally. "You are what I thought, but you have something..."

He paused, then reached for the sword I still clung to.

"What did you need from me?" he asked, breaking my trance.

I handed Rupert's sword to him. "I need this blessed, Father."

"Is that all?" He examined the sword, feeling it's weight. "This is a good weapon."

"Yes," I said.

He looked at me, his brow knotted inquisitively. "And what are you going to use such a weapon on, my child?"

It was my turn to hesitate. This man was obviously knowledgeable about the 'other side' of Sunnydale; facing evil was an occupational hazard. But more information that was necessary could be dangerous for him.

"Evil, Father," I said.

He nodded, then placed the sword on the alter. I stepped back, out of the way of the drops of holy water the priest sprinkled on the blade of my weapon. He muttered prayers of blessing and protection, the litany blending into a music of sorts.

When he was finished, he tore the bottom off a banner that decorated the front of the podium and wrapped the now blessed sword in it. Handing it to me, he gave me a sad smile.

"Good luck."

I turned towards the door, the fabric protecting my hands from the burning holiness of my weapon. My hand on the knob, I turned back to find the priest still at the alter, watching me.

"Father," I said, "may I ask you something?"

"Yes," he moved towards me. "I thought you would."

"Why did you let me in?"

He looked taken aback. "I suppose because," he shook his head ruefully, "because you can't spend your entire life barring the door against the world. Evil might get in, that's true. But good comes in the same door. You just have to be prepared to fight the first, and hope for the latter."

Turning back to the door I said, "Thank you - for hoping."

"To be honest," said the priest, "that's not what I was expecting you to ask."

I paused, waiting.

"I assumed you'd ask what I was going to say earlier. When I said you were what I thought."

My eyes met his again. "But you said I had something. What?"

The priest stepped closer to me, laid a hand against my unbeating heart. "Something I honor."

Desperate, I searched his gaze for meaning. "What do you honor, Father?"

"Humanity," the priest said simply.

My throat constricted. This man of God, this person of faith, had every reason to see only the monster. To see only my evil, the demon clutching at my soul. Yet he could - he _chose _- to see beyond the tattered shreds of dispair into what I was. What I could become.

Just as Rupert had done.

Holding the sword tightly, I nodded and slipped out of his grasp and into the night.

I barely heard his voice as the door shut behind me.

"Go with God."

* * *

Making my way through the streets, I find a seedy little dive. "Willy's" or something equally prosy.

A few quick inquiries made, three or four drinks of indeterminate nature bought, and a brief discussion in the back of the bar concluded my business in the town of Sunnydale.

It's amazing what a few bucks can buy you from an obliging demon. Of course, the threats and Slayer name-dropping might have had more to do with the fellow's acquiescent nature than the hundred bucks I had lifted from Spike's wallet over the past week.

Oh well. Either way the task was complete.

I glanced quickly at the clock on the wall as I left the bar.

Only two more hours to complete the spell and make my way to Laalym's warehouse. The chances of being interrupted at my crypt were too high, so I had to find another deserted, quiet place to make some magic.

I remembered seeing a couple of deserted-looking houses on my way into town the first night, so I started in that direction.

* * *

Fifteen minutes of quick walking and I had completed my last act of breaking and entering. The house was creaking and squeaking, rife with dust and critters, but it would do for my purpose.

Setting the sword down in the corner, I poured a circle of binding sand on the floor. I brought out the eight fat white candles and began arranging them in the circle, then lit each.

I grabbed the book and took my seat in the middle, Lethe's bramble in my lap.

Closing my eyes, I prepared myself. Simple spell this wasn't, and even though it might be considered the easiest of the memory spells I was no witch. Messing with the mind always brought consequences.

But it was the only way.

I lifted the book and began to read.

"Vestri memoria mei

_Your memory of me_

"Est tantum poena

_Is only pain_

"EGO precor is absentis

_I beseech this to be gone_

"Per incendia of meus alica

_May the very fire of my spell_

"Pacis rursus."

_Bring you peace._

My hand shook as I held a cluster of Lethe's bramble to the first candle.

"Dawn Summers."

I could see her, lying in her bed, reading under the covers. Her hair caught the beam of her flashlight, sparkled.

She sparkled.

I could feel the spell working, erasing me from her memory.

"Anya Jenkins"

The ex-demon was asleep, her dreams full of comforting violence and vengeance. A world of black and white where she was Justice.

I was slipping away from her memories.

"Xander Harris"

He was sleeping next to her, his arm draped comfortably over her shoulder. As I drifted from his recollection, he muttered and pulled her closer.

"Tara McClay"

The witch was awake, getting ready for bed. She gave a little shudder as the spell worked through her mind.

"Willow Rosenberg"

She had just gotten into her pajamas, just laid her head on the pillow. The spell jerked her back awake with a ghostly touch. With a quick glance around the room, she shrugged and pulled Tara into bed.

Just a bad dream.

"Spike"

The vampire was walking through a graveyard, making his way towards the Slayer. An unlit cigarette hung from his lips.

The spell blew through his mind, rifling through his memories and pulling me out. He whirled around, searching for the sound he imagined, and dropped his cig. Finding no one there, he swore as he searched the ground for his last smoke.

"Buffy Summers"

The Slayer was fighting a newly awoken vamp as the spell took me away from her.

She dusted him and moved on. On a mission.

Seven candles were out, seven charred flowers in a circle around me. One more candle, one more cluster and I would be gone.

I would die alone. Unmourned.

It was for the best.

Selfishly, I had left him for last. I didn't have to go through with it. If I went to him, explained, he would keep my secret. He would hold my memory.

That knowledge made it easier to lift the Lethe's bramble to the last candle. To say his name.

I had caused him too much pain already. To ask him to take on more, alone, would negate all that I was fighting for.

In order to complete this, I had to disappear. Their lives must go on without me.

The bramble had caught fire.

"Rupert Daniel Giles."

He was sitting in his living room, on the couch. A glass was in his hand and a Pink Floyd record was playing.

He was thinking of me.

The spell began working on him. It rifled through the last week of his memory, extracting me bit by bit.

When I first walked through the door of The Magic Box, he had helped me because I reminded him of his first love. When I told my story, he had to remember to breathe.

The night that Spike had carried me, unconscious, into the shop, it had taken all his strength not to go and dust every vamp that might have harmed me.

He had to stop himself from kissing me in front of Tara and Willow.

Whenever I laughed, he wished that he could stop time and live forever in that moment.

Even now, he was planning ways to finish off Laalym and live happily ever after.

But slowly I began to disappear.

I watched his face, my tears falling unheeded, as the spell worked.

Suddenly he looked up. A dawning recognition crossed his eyes.

He knew.

It couldn't be stopped. Even if I had wanted to, the spell was in motion. As the last memory was taken from him, a single tear traced his cheek.

Then I couldn't see him anymore. I was back in the dusty old house, surrounded by eight burned-out candles and the ashes of flowers.

It was done.

* * *

I motored through the streets, the bag banging against my leg and the sword dragging my arm down. Leave it to Laalym to pick a spot for our final galactic battle all the sodding way across town. Now my bouncy hairdo would be all flat-like.

There had been one small thing I had lied to Rupert about. The information I had gathered from various lowlifes and bloodsuckers had, indeed, pointed me towards an abandoned warehouse outside of Sunnydale. But the night that Laalym had planned our little rendezvous was not tomorrow. It was tonight.

I had received the summons. Now I was responding. Alone.

This would be a surprise for Laalym. He expected a repeat of last time - me marching in with my army, proverbial guns blazing. An easy feast for him, a predictable downfall for me and those who fought by my side.

He didn't plan on me throwing out the rules.

I was a Slayer. I should focus on the mission, at any cost. Any price.

He would be waiting for my troops, waiting to play on my pride. He didn't know what I knew.

I was going to win. Because I wasn't willing to lose everything. My life wasn't important to me anymore, and I wasn't bringing the people - the _person_ - I cared most about along on this bloodbath.

It was very important to Laalym that both he and I stayed undusted during the course of our encounter.

That's where he was going to lose. Because I very much wanted dusting to happen. And the fool who's willing to die is usually the fool who gets their wish.

The rusty scent of apathy assaulted my senses. Dilapidated buildings surrounded me. It was like everyone decided to leave work at once, and no one ever came back. I could sense that most of the structures stood empty, but a coiling sense of smooth power was beckoning from the building directly in front of me.

I had found Laalym.

With a swift kick I sent the metal door flying into the dark maw of the warehouse.

"Honey," I called, "I'm home!" Walking confidently forward, I ignored the glowing yellow eyes all around me and focused on the raised dais in the middle of the room.

His skin was pale and putrid, pulled back into wrinkles and crags. Yellow eyes were rimmed in black, and his fangs overlapped cherry red lips. Laalym wore a black cape over a purple robe. The nightmare king.

"Still with your quips, young one," he shook his head sadly. "Still here, at the end, you don't realize the gravity of your situation."

Laalym strode forward, his feet seeming to skim the floor. He stopped a scant few feet from me. Just out of striking distance.

"I would have thought that the memory of what happened last time you were arrogant enough to challenge me would give you pause." He gestured me towards a chair, invited me to sit. Invited in the sense that fifty of his muscle-bound flunkies started to crack their knuckles when I hesitated.

I sat down as graciously as I could under the circumstances. All due respect to the manners-conscious of the world, but sitting on a rough wooden chair in a warehouse surrounded by vampires is not the occasion for demure ankle crossing and hand folding.

Circling my chair like some swollen bird of prey, Laalym mocked me with his smile, his easy gate. He should be dust under my feet. Instead I had to sit silently and take his lashes.

"Foolish child," Laalym crowed, "unwilling to capitulate before your inevitable fall. I really did think, though, that seeing the wreck of a man your beloved Daniel had become would force you to face reality."

My anger burned when he mentioned Rupert. The hand clutching the sword tightened around the hilt. But it wasn't the time yet.

Soon.

"Did you see the fear in his eyes, Slayer? Did you sense his hatred of what you've become? What you _are_? Did he turn you away? Is that why you're here alone, then? He refused to touch you, couldn't stand the stench of your filth."

Laalym bent my head to the side, exposing my neck. His long fingers brushed the scar left by his teeth. I couldn't repress a shiver.

"I can't blame him, really," Laalym said. I could smell blood on his breath. "No one likes sloppy seconds."

A ripple of dull laughter echoed around the room. The vampire army moved around me, a faceless sea of undead warriors.

His cape whirled around him theatrically as he took a step back, examined me. He folded his arms, cocked his horrific head to the side.

"Why _did_ you come alone, Slayer? It is most unlike you. Very rude to not bring snacks to the party."

If my heart had been working, it would have been thumping frantically. "I chose to come."

Laalym studied my face, searching for signs of weakness, of deception.

"Why should I believe you?" The Vampire moved closer, his eyes boring into mine. "I wouldn't hesitate to strike should the situation be reversed. What is different?"

I looked at him, at my sire. All the frustration, all the rage and emotion and pain of the last week suddenly boiled to the surface.

I exploded to my feet, kicking the chair into the crowd of vampires. I grabbed Laalym by the throat and shoved him against a wall. One hand was pressing his skull into the solid metal, the other was still clenched around the fabric-draped sword.

My face was fully vamped. Leaning close to Laalym I inhaled the heady scent of his fear. His eyes were dilated, his mouth open in soundless panic. I put my mouth next to his ear and whispered.

"I'm Hungry."

Then I released him, letting him sag to the ground as I picked up my chair and sat back down. The sword was cradled in my arms.

Laalym stood slowly, straightened his cape and brushed dirt from his robe. Then he looked around at the circle of vampires surrounding me.

This was my moment of truth. If Laalym believed me then my plan had a chance of success.

However, if he knew I was lying, I would be dead before I got close enough to destroy him. I was banking on his arrogance, on his blind faith in his master plan.

For one stomach churning moment Laalym paused. It took all my willpower to keep my hand from trembling.

Then, he laughed. As one voice, his army laughed with him. Laalym clapped his hands and two flunkies escorted me up onto the dais.

"My faithful ones," he shouted to the crowd, "our wanderer has come home!"

All around me vampires gave a great roar. Fists were shook in the air, feet were stomped, and the sound of their homage shook the rafters.

"Now, my little one, I will complete your transformation and allow you to take your place by my side. We will spill the blood of the earth, bathe in rivers of destruction." His eyes flashed and a crazy grin crossed his face. "All that is left is to feed your Hunger."

Three of the throng appeared close to the edge of the dais. Between them they carried a young man. His face was bruised and bloodied. Hanging limply in the arms of his captors he appeared unconscious.

"Bring forth the sacrifice," said Laalym. The boy was flung onto the dais before my feet.

"Now," Laalym crowed, "drink. Drink and _become_!"

I moved towards the boy. So young. He stirred a bit, his eyes widening in fear. I bent down, my fangs so close to his neck. I could _feel_ his blood flowing.

"Shh," I whispered. Laalym's flunkies had started a chant and he was basking in their adoration. I had a few seconds. "It's all right. I'm going to get you out of here, but you have to do exactly as I say, Ok?"

He nodded. His eyes were hazel, watching me with fear and trust. A lump rose in my throat and I had to force my attention back to the task at hand.

"I'm going to smear some blood on your neck. Just act like I'm draining you, then go limp. Whatever you do, _don't move_ until everything goes quiet. Understand?"

The boy nodded again. Leaning down, I quickly sliced my hand on one of my own fangs. My blood flowed out and onto the boy's neck. I smeared some on my mouth and threw the boy gently from me. He landed near the wall and out of the way of trampling feet.

I stood, the blood around my mouth catching the light of a thousand candles. A mighty cheer went up from the crowd, then a sudden hush.

Laalym walked slowly up to me, turned me to face him. The sword was lying just in reach, unheeded on the ground, still wrapped in the banner.

"How do you feel?" His eyes were eager.

Slowly I smoothed my features back, beat the demon into submission. I wiped the blood from my face. Deliberately, never breaking eye contact, I reached down and grabbed the sword.

"You forgot," I said, holding the covered hilt of the sword in one hand and grasping the loose edge of the fabric in the other.

"Forgot what?" Laalym was waiting for the demon to arrive, for his key to breaking open the Hellmouth to emerge from the human wrapper.

I almost hated to disappoint him.

"The twelfth rule of Slaying." I braced myself, still holding his eyes with my own. "Never forget what's important. Never loose sight of what you're fighting for."

With a great pull, I removed the Blessed Sword of Destruction from the fabric. Both my hands gripped the handle. The pain almost made me black out; I could see my flesh smoking.

With a yell I plunged the blade into Laalym's heart. I didn't stop until the hilt met his breastbone. He screamed in agony as the priest's blessings worked like acid on his body.

Tears were running down my face. The holiness of the sword, the very thing that made it such an effective weapon, was like poison to me. Already my vision was blurry and the skin on my arms was black.

"Burn in hell, Laalym," I spat. With a heave I pulled the sword out. As he collapsed to the ground I whirled the sword over my head and chopped off his head with one smooth stroke.

Somewhere, my Watcher, Elizabeth, was applauding.

Laalym burst into dust at my feet.

The vampire army was gone - whether into dust or simply bailing on a fallen leader I didn't know. Pain, pure agony, had overwhelmed me at last. I fell to the ground, the sword clattering at my side.

Red heat was coating my body. A thousand knives were assaulting my eyeballs.

_"So this is how it feels," _I thought absently. _"In the end, this is what it's like to die."_

Then everything seemed to fade away. The pain was there, important, shouting for my attention - and then it melted off of me. Slid away from my body.

Memories of what I was leaving flashed in my mind. Rupert, laughing. Making tea. Touching my hand.

The hunt, the slay, the indescribable high. The feel of grit on my face after a night of patroling.

The sun. The warmth, the liquid sensation of heaven.

The night, cooling and smooth.

But then I shook my head. My Watcher always told me that the most important rule of Slaying is the thirteenth: Never look back.

Behind you is a place you can never be, full of things you can never touch.

So I stepped forward.

Into the Light.

* * *

**Disclaimer: All of this belongs to Joss Whedon. All hail the great Joss-ness.**

**A/N: Here we are at the end. Thank you for staying with this! This is the first real fiction I've ever written - not to mention the first fanfic. It has been an amazing journey.**

**This fic was inspired by Evanescence's song "My Immortal". **

**Much love and huggles go to Mermaidrain for her beta reads and encouragement.**

**Review, like always, are met with singing and dancing and huzzahs.**

**Love to my plot bunny, Hubert. He says hello.**


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